Breaking Bad
by Vesalius
Summary: Breaking Bad AU: The happy sunshine gang isn't so happy anymore. A personal hardship forces Lauren to take a hard look at her life, and the under-employed high school chemistry teacher has to turn to some drastic measures to help someone she loves. The real test will be keeping it a secret from her family and friends — and keeping them safe from the fallout. Doccubus.
1. Life's Not Fair

Disclaimers: _Lost Girl_ is the property of Prodigy Pictures and Shaw Media. I own nothing, and do not take any credit for any creative choices its production staff has made. However, any _further_ bastardization of the plot and/or characters in the scope of this story is solely of my own doing, for which I apologize immensely.

This story will be starting with some of the basic plot premises of Breaking Bad, though it will end up diverging in many places. That's 100% intentional. Many of the main cast and recurring characters will be showing up at some point in various roles analogous to those in Breaking Bad. This is just a weird idea that wouldn't leave me alone; I hope that some people get some enjoyment out of it.

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* * *

_Life never gives you more than you can handle._

At least, that's what Lauren's father used to always say. In her more naive days, she used to believe it, but now she new better. Life wasn't that thoughtful — or that fair. It could give you a hug one moment and a kick in the teeth the next, and Lauren had been feeling the brunt of it for years.

It's not as if there were any life-threatening catastrophes headed her way. She had a modest, stable job. She'd been married seven years. She had a lovely two-bedroom house in the suburbs. Everything on her life's checklist was being marked as complete. She and Bo had always discussed having children together, but they'd never gotten around to it. It was one of the few milestones left on the list. They'd get around to it… eventually.

Lauren couldn't say for sure when things started to turn for the worse. Perhaps it was a cumulative effect more than anything else. Maybe it started when her father got sick, and she stopped pursuing her PhD. Maybe it was when she settled on a job that wasn't exactly her passion in life. Maybe it was when her father died, and her mother in England moved closer so Lauren could help her (because _her_ health wasn't the best either). Maybe it was any _one_ of those things, and maybe it was _all_ of those things. It's not as if she woke up one morning and suddenly realized her life had turned into something she hated. It was more insidious, a slow, almost undetectable transition, and she didn't even realize how unhappy she was until she really sat down and reflected on it.

Lauren's — _Mrs. Lewis's _— last class ended just after four o'clock. Today was luckily one of the few days she didn't have to stay late to tutor or run detention, so she was free to leave after the last bell sounded. She probably wasn't quite as eager to leave as her kids were, but she was ready to get out of the hormone-laden high school as soon as she could. It wasn't as if she hated teaching; she just found it wearisome to try to impart knowledge on those who had no desire to learn, a group comprising around seventy-five percent of the class. It was a giant step down from what she'd been training to do, and while she originally told herself she would go back to school eventually, it had been eight years. With each passing semester, it became less and less likely that she would ever get around to it.

When she arrived back home, Lauren noticed the yellow Camaro wasn't parked out front. Bo must have been working on a case. That meant she was either out in the field or she was at the town's precinct. Part of the perks of Bo's P.I. license was that she was privy to police resources, and ever since she'd qualified, she'd been much busier with her own work. Bo hadn't sent her a message today about staying out late. In fact, Lauren hadn't heard anything from Bo at all today. So Lauren decided to start on dinner in hopes that her wife would be home in time to enjoy it.

Sometime later, the roar from the Camaro's engine announced Bo's arrival, and the timing was perfect. Lauren was just pulling the rolls out of the oven, and the chicken and steamed vegetables were already done and ready to serve. Bo came shuffling in with an unreadable expression on her face.

"Hey honey," Lauren greeted her from the kitchen as Bo walked into the adjacent room. "How was your day?"

Bo shrugged her shoulders. "Okay, I guess." She shrugged off her leather jacket and threw it over the back of the armchair near the entryway before approaching.

"That sounds pretty convincing."

"I'm getting absolutely nowhere on this case," Bo sighed. "I spent all day at the precinct and I have zero to show for it."

"You'll figure it out," Lauren assured her, earning a noncommittal grunt from Bo. "You ready for dinner?"

"I actually just ate at the precinct."

"Come again?"

"I already ate," Bo repeated. "We were busy with the case, so we just got Chinese delivered to the office."

Lauren's brows furrowed as she worked through the sentence. "Bo, who's 'we'?"

Bo was a private investigator, and as a general rule, she worked alone. She had access to police resources, but she never worked alongside them directly. Her cases were not being pursued by local law enforcement, and their cases never involved hers. They only gave her reports and records when she had a warrant from the district attorney. There was zero overlap, and if Bo had taken to working with a new partner, this was the first Lauren heard of it.

"It's nobody. Just some cop that's helping me pull some phone and credit card records." But Lauren wasn't born yesterday. She didn't miss the way Bo's eyes flitted away at the question. It made her suspicious of this mystery cop, but she wasn't going to make a big deal of it… at least not tonight, anyway.

"Hmm."

So dinner for two suddenly turned into a solo affair plus leftovers, and Lauren cleaned the pots and pans from the would-be dinner as Bo sat sprawled out on the plush beige couch with the television on. She wasn't really watching anything in particular, just flicking through the channels every few seconds. She must have been through them all at least twice, and she couldn't seem to make up her mind as to which one she really wanted to watch. Lauren finally sat at the other end and curled her feet up underneath her while Bo continued channel surfing.

"What time did you want to leave tomorrow?" Lauren said as she made herself comfortable.

"Leave for what?" Bo asked, not even glancing away from the television screen.

Lauren glared at Bo, who was oblivious to the harsh look. "My mom's appointment, Bo. I told you about it last week." She paused, giving Bo a chance to respond, but nothing came. "I told you about it a _few_ times, in fact."

Bo's persistent button-pushing halted, and she looked confused for a moment as she was obviously trying to remember Lauren's words. Her face shifted as realization dawned on her. "Shit, babe. That's right. I remember you saying something about that." She suddenly found the remote control very interesting, and looked away — anywhere besides Lauren's face. "I've got to meet with my client tomorrow, can't really get out of it this time. Is there anyway we can reschedule it? I can go _literally_ any time other than tomorrow."

Lauren shook her head. "Bo, if I canceled tomorrow, I wouldn't be able to get Mom in to see Dr. Everett for a year and a half. That's how far out she's booked. I've had my mom on the waiting list for over a year for this appointment tomorrow."

"Well, what time is it at? Maybe I could swing by after I got done with my meeting."

"Four o'clock."

Bo smiled widely. "Oh, that's perfect! I'll be done by then, and I can just go with you guys afterward."

Lauren shook her head. "It's four hundred miles away, Bo." You wouldn't make it in time, and we're going to have to spend the night as it is."

Bo's face fell instantly at the news. She was beginning to realize that she really messed up this time, and there was no amount of last-minute rearranging she could do to rectify it. Lauren didn't seem interested in hanging around to watch television anymore, and though it was much too early to go to bed for the evening, she felt the need to excuse herself. She and her mother would have to leave before the sun rose in the morning, so it was a perfect reason to retire for the night even though she wasn't tired.

"I'm need to go get ready for tomorrow," Lauren announced, rousing herself from the comfortable position she'd found on the couch. "It's going to be an early morning, and I need to get up early." She headed toward the hallway toward their bedroom.

Just before she reached the hall, she heard Bo call out behind her, "I'm sorry, Lo."

Lauren simply turned around and gave her a simple nod before continuing to the bedroom.

* * *

Even though she got a full night's rest, the alarm still went off too early for Lauren's liking. Over the years, she'd become accustomed to her usual schedule for school days, but this morning was much earlier than that. At the bright and early hour of three o'clock, some might even consider it late — it just depended on which part of the day it was being compared to.

After fumbling around for a few seconds with the blaring alarm, she finally shut the damned thing off. The faint glow of the outside street lights through the sheer curtains was the only glow in the room, and Lauren had to practically feel her way out of bed.

Despite not going to bed together last night, Bo's arm was thrown across her stomach, and the brunette had somehow managed to tangle her feet up with Lauren's. Thankfully, Bo was a heavy sleeper. Not much short of a nuclear bomb could wake her, so Lauren didn't even have to tread lightly as she disentangled herself from Bo's embrace.

That sleeping pattern was definitely a quirk particular to Bo. Somehow, someway, in the middle of the night, she would end up cuddled up next to Lauren. It didn't matter where either of them started, or whether or not they were fighting. She could start on the far edge of the bed, facing away from the blonde, and by morning, she'd end up spooning the other woman. Fierce arguments that ended in them both going to bed angry unconsciously ended up with Bo wrapping them both in a cocoon of sheets together at some point in the night. So while they had gone to bed hours apart (and not on a necessarily good note) last night, they woke up wound tightly together.

Lauren pulled her feet out from between Bo's and lifted the arm from across her side, and proceeded to get ready for the trip. It was a long drive, around seven hours to get to the facility, but Dr. Everett was the best in the country at what she did. It would all be worth it after today. If there was literally _anything_ she could try differently with her mother, Dr. Everett would know. More than anything, Lauren was looking to get more information.

So she packed her mother's bag for today before leaving to pick her up. There were certain things she _had_ to bring: her mother's injections, the numerous MRI studies she'd gotten at different hospitals (all in clearly labeled DVD cases and organized by date), and copies of her old records. Then there were the less practical items: books, snacks, music. They were only necessary for passing the long down time before and after the appointment. Bo never once stirred during the entire ordeal, and Lauren let her sleep instead of waking her before she left at that ungodly hour.

Lauren's mother lived a few neighborhoods over. It was far enough away that her mom afforded her and Bo some privacy but close enough for Lauren to drop by regularly and help her at home. Lauren's mom, Janine, was queasy with needles, and probably wouldn't take her weekly injections unless Lauren came to give them herself. She owned a key to her mother's house, so she let herself in, and her mother had already managed to dress herself this morning.

"Wow, you're getting around great," Lauren commented, noticing her mom's independence. Most days she required some sort of assistance if she had to dress herself or go out in public.

"Well, I may only have one working side, but I'm not in the grave yet, dear," Janine chuckled. "Could you help with my hair on this side sweetheart? I can't seem to reach it." She flicked her head to the right, showing Lauren the unruly tuft of gray hair she was referring to.

There were many things besides styling hair that Janine couldn't do. Recently, she'd been so weak on the right side most days that she could hardly walk or write. One particular day, she wasn't even able to lift her arm, and Lauren had to leave school early to take her to the hospital yet again. It was a regular routine for the two of them, going in and out of doctor's appointments together, always hearing the same thing but never really noticing any results. It was a small miracle that her mother was able to get dressed this morning.

Janine hummed to herself as Lauren struggled with the stubborn segment of hair. It stopped abruptly, and she asked Lauren: "Where's Bo? I thought she was supposed to be tagging along today."

"She was," Lauren answered shortly.

"Is she waiting out in the car? Tell her to come inside, darling! Don't make her stay out there in the cold!"

Lauren sighed. "No, she's not in the car. She won't be able to make it, mum. She has a meeting today that she can't miss." There was very little emotion in Lauren's voice, and Janine didn't miss it.

"Are you two doing all right?"

"We're fine, mum."

"My eyes may not be what they used to, but my ears still work just fine, I'll have you know. I can tell something's bothering you. Out with it!"

Lauren finally smoothed down the difficult section of hair and returned from her previous position to face her mother. "We're fine," she repeated, and her mother finally relented. Though she couldn't fool _herself_ into thinking that was completely true.

She and Bo loved each other, of course. Over the past seven years, that never changed. At some point, however, the relationship just became routine for them. When they were first together, it was a whirlwind of passion, and that carried them completely for a few years. But the more involved they got with their own personal obligations, the more their own relationship began to feel methodical. They used to lust over each other's bodies and give into it whenever (and wherever) the fancy struck them. Now, both of them always seemed to be tired, and on the occasions it did happen, it almost felt scheduled, perfunctory even. Neither one of them wanted to admit that something was wrong, yet both of them weren't exactly happy in their current pattern. But instead of addressing it, both of them avoided discussing it altogether, and as time passed it became only more and more uncomfortable to acknowledge.

Lauren packed their things in the back of the car as her mother waited patiently inside, and after the bags were stowed away and they were ready to leave, they began the short but difficult trek to the car together.

Janine used a walker to support most of her weight, and even with its help, she was favoring her right side heavily. She was gripping the bars lightly with her right hand, but it wouldn't have been enough to catch her if she lost her balance. Lauren walked closely alongside her to support her if she began to fall.

Lauren couldn't help but notice how frail her mother looked these days. She was only in her early sixties, but she looked older than that with how much weight she'd lost over the past few years. It wasn't the healthy kind of weight loss either. Her very muscles seemed to be wasting away, and it gave her a hollowed, sunken appearance. Her skin hadn't adjusted to the sudden changes either, and it seemed to hang off her loosely waiting for Janine's old body to come back.

The walker's frame began to wobble as Janine pushed it forward. At the first sign of stumbling, Lauren's arms shot out, catching her mother before she had a chance to really fall.

"Are you all right?" Lauren asked frantically.

"I'm fine, dear. Just lost my balance there for a moment," Janine assured her worried daughter.

Lauren helped her mother maneuver the walker forward to avoid any more mishaps, and slowly but surely they made their way outside. The walker was thrown in the trunk along with the rest of their things, and with some difficulty, Lauren was able to get her mother settled in the passenger's side of the car. It normally was a two-person job, but as Bo wouldn't be joining them today, Lauren had to make do by herself.

The drive to the doctor's appointment was long and tiring. Her mother slept through the majority of it, and Lauren would have done the same if she were able to, but she had to stay awake to drive. The silver lining was that after all of the hassle, at least Lauren and her mother could get some answers. And maybe, if they were lucky, they could get a treatment plan for her illness that actually helped.

* * *

Dr. Everett's clinic was nothing short of amazing. It was in one of the medical towers in the heart of the big city hospital, and it had more state of the art equipment and facilities than anyplace Lauren had ever seen. Even the waiting area was chock full of three-dimensional interactive computer models that illustrated various diseases, and patients and family members were welcome to use them to educate themselves as they waited. There were many others in the waiting room, but somehow it didn't seem cramped in any way.

Janine was engrossed in one of her books, and Lauren was busy with one of the interactive screens. Various sections of the body were lit up as she read.

_Dejerine-Roussy syndrome is a neuropathic pain syndrome associated with a prior history of thalamic strokes…._

"Janine Lewis?" one of the medical assistants called out to the waiting area.

"You ready, mum?" Lauren asked, turning her attention to her mother.

Janine nodded, and tucked her book away. As they'd rehearsed earlier on their trips to and from the car, the two of them slowly made their way back to the exam room. Janine was unsteady enough on her feet that it took them quite a while to get from their chairs back to the room. The medical assistant escorting them waited patiently though, and slowly but surely they eventually made their way back. Once the assistant measured her vitals, they were left alone to wait for Dr. Everett.

"This really is a lovely place," Janine commented idly as they waited together.

"Yes, it is," Lauren agreed.

There had obviously been a huge investment in the facility and not only from a medical standpoint. Each exam room had a large window with a fantastic view of the city skyline, and the clear afternoon sky gave the room a large supply of natural light. It was a far cry from most of the cramped clinics with sickly looking fluorescent lighting that they normally endured.

It wasn't long before Dr. Everett knocked and came inside. For being one of the most renowned physicians in her field, Lauren was surprised by how young she actually looked. She might have colored her sleek black hair, but her face still held a distinct youthful glow. The only signs that Dr. Everett might have been older than Lauren were the crinkles at the corners of her eyes.

"Good afternoon," she greeted the two of them, "I'm Dr. Everett."

"Janine," Lauren's mother replied, shaking the doctor's hand. "And this is my daughter, Lauren."

"It's nice to meet the two of you." She pulled up her stool to seat herself by the two of them. "Now, I've gone over your previous records, but I wanted to hear from you how you're been doing — how this all started and how you've been doing now. Could you explain it to me?" Her voice was kind as she addressed the older woman.

Janine nodded, and started her long-winded explanation. Her mother first noticed problems twenty years ago, but they weren't near as bad back then. She just had some numbness in her feet that would come and go from day to day, and she didn't think anything of it. It was years later that she couldn't feel either of her legs, and at that point, she started seeing doctors.

At first, they were stumped. Janine had every blood test known to man ordered, and everything turned up nearly normal. It was a frustrating few years as she bounced from clinic to clinic all over England, yet nobody could tell her what the problem was. Numerous diagnoses were thrown her way: vitamin deficiency, sciatica, Guillain–Barré, endocrine disease… Her previous doctors gave her steroids, vitamins, a few pain pills and sent her on her way.

When they finally arrived at a diagnosis, it was both a frustration and a relief. On one hand, the doctors had finally figured out the problem. On the other hand, it wasn't something that could be cured. The medicines they were prescribed did little for Janine, if anything at all, and her symptoms continued to worsen despite the various treatments she tried. They were on the highest doses of the most expensive treatments available to them, and of course none of them were covered under Lauren's basic insurance plan. When those medications weren't working either, it felt like a giant waste of two thousand dollars every month.

Dr. Everett nodded as Janine finished her story, and started throwing in some extra questions of her own. She took notes on the chart and checked off boxes as Janine answered. Once the questions were over, Dr. Everett examined her, testing her strength, coordination, and reflexes quickly and expertly.

"So, it sounds like you've tried about five different medications in the past?" Dr. Everett asked Janine and Lauren.

"Yes," Lauren answered. "Avonex, Rebif, Betaseron, Extavia, and Gilenya," she rattled off. "But she's been on Tysabri for the past couple of months."

"I see," Dr. Everett nodded. "It sounds like the treatments have actually been escalated appropriately. I'll need to review the MRI scans you brought with you to see how things have been progressing before I can make any recommendations," she explained. "I'll go take a look at those now, and we can discuss a plan of action from there, okay?"

Janine nodded and smiled at her. "Thank you, Doctor."

Lauren began to get worried after Dr. Everett had been gone for nearly an hour. There were certainly a lot of discs to look at (about a decade's worth, to be exact), but with each passing minute, her sense of anxiety grew. Janine just looked bored and busied herself with her book yet again, and Lauren tried to calm her own nerves.

An hour and a half after Dr. Everett left, she returned to the room.

"Well, Mrs. Lewis, I'm afraid I have some bad news," she said once she'd taken up her previous position on the stool. Lauren's heart fell out of her chest. "It appears that there are new lesions on your latest MRIs, and it also looks as if some of the older lesions are getting bigger."

Silence engulfed the room, and Dr. Everett gave them both a few moments to process.

"Let me show you what I'm talking about," Dr. Everett said after several long moments. She reached behind her to turn on the computer monitor on the far wall, and MRI images of Janine's head came up. "This right here is all old scarring," she explained, pointing to the left side of the brain toward the edge. It was faintly lighter that the area surrounding it. "But notice here how it's starting to grow bigger on this edge?" She pulled up another scan and pointed to the now larger light area on the left side of the brain. "That's what's contributing to the weakening on her right side."

Lauren nodded. "How bad is it?"

"Well, these two studies in particular were six months apart." She panned down lower on the image and pointed to another area of the brain. "And there's a brand new lesion here that's most likely causing the balance problems."

Lauren spotted the bright area without Dr. Everett even having to point to it. She spotted several other smaller lesions that were new, but Dr. Everett said they were probably too small to be causing any symptoms at the moment. Janine simply sat there quietly listening to the two of them, but not really participating too much in the conversation or the image session.

"So what can we do?" Lauren asked, now that she had a better grasp of the problem.

Dr. Everett took a deep breath, seeming to consider her next words carefully. "Typically, we would try to slow the progression down and prevent relapses with disease-modifying drugs, which you're already using. The normal pattern of the disease itself is more relapsing and remitting, but I'm afraid that at least over the past year, there haven't been any real remissions to speak of."

Lauren stared at her blankly. "Does that mean there isn't anything we can do?"

"No, not at all," Dr. Everett explained. "I just wanted to make it clear that the disease itself seems to have changed. It appears to have started as a relapsing-remitting type, but has transitioned to a progressive type."

"What's the difference?" Lauren asked, looked at her mother worriedly.

"There's continuous decline now instead of distinct attacks between periods of inactivity."

"How can we treat it?" Lauren asked.

"There's no clear evidence indicating any type of long-term treatment in progressive disease, but there's some debate about using IV immune globulin if you're interested in giving it a shot. It's relatively new, so —"

Lauren interrupted her, "We're interested."

A small voice came from the side of the room interrupting the discussion, and Janine finally seemed to come back around to the conversation. "Am I going to die?" she asked, and Lauren felt her heart break.

The potential answer to the question was a growing source of anxiety for Lauren. She wanted to say _no_, that she would never let anything like that happen to her mother. She hadn't been there when her father died, and she wasn't about to let the same thing happen to her mom. But what if the answer was _yes_? Lauren didn't think she could handle it if there was nothing she could do to stop her mother from dying.

"It's a little premature to be making any of those calls right now," Dr. Everett explained. "We haven't exhausted all the options available, and there's not a lot of evidence on progressive disease. We don't know how well it will respond to treatment. Everyone seems to respond to it differently."

"What would _you_ do?" Lauren asked.

Dr. Everett tilted her head to the side and squinted her eyes as she considered the question, showing off the crinkles at the corners of them. "If it were _me_…" she said slowly, "I would try to get the current relapse under control, and then I would try to exhaust all my preventative options."

Lauren looked hard at her mother, trying to read her, trying to see what she wanted. But she'd withdrawn back into herself again, suddenly finding her own lap far more interesting than anything else in the room. Lauren wanted to do anything — everything — to make her better. Suddenly she found her resolve.

"We'll do it," Lauren said quietly, without a single ounce of doubt in her voice. "Just tell me what we need to do."

Dr. Everett nodded in understanding. "Since she's currently in relapse, I would suggest admitting her for a few days for a solumedrol burst. In the meantime, I can work on getting you set up someplace a little closer to home for the IVIG treatments." The black-haired doctor looked back and forth between the two of them. "Is there any possibility that you two could stay here for a few days? It would be easier for me to monitor you if you were at the hospital just across the street."

Lauren didn't even hesitate. They'd done this exact routine several times over the years, and it wasn't anything new for either of them. "Of course. It's not a problem."

"Lauren, sweetheart," Janine said softly, placing her good hand over her daughter's. "You can't do that, you have your work…"

The blonde shook her head. "I'll take sick leave, mum. This is more important." She turned back to Dr. Everett. "So when should we go?"

"Let me call the hospital right now. I'll have them admit you from here, and you can go over straight away. Is that all right?"

The question was directed more toward Janine, but she was still not willing to talk too much. Lauren took her mother's hands in her own and gave them a reassuring squeeze.

"That sounds great, Dr. Everett," she said, answering on her mother's behalf. "Thank you."

* * *

Bo's day started off like shit.

She had hoped to talk to Lauren last night before the other woman went to bed, but by the time Bo came in later that evening, she was already asleep. She had also gotten up before Bo this morning and left without saying goodbye.

On some level, Bo know that the issue from last night was her fault. She'd been caught up in other things — her work mostly, but also her personal life outside of her relationship. She was just having a hard time balancing the two, and it didn't help that she and Lauren were operating on two completely different wavelengths these days.

Bo couldn't pinpoint exactly when it had happened either, and that was the frustrating part. When she'd asked Lauren to marry her years ago, she couldn't envision there ever being a time when there was no spark in their relationship. But something had clearly happened, and Bo was at a loss as what to do about it. She still loved Lauren just as much as she did the day she married the other woman. Yet, she couldn't think of anything new she could try to get their groove back together.

She'd tried before, a few years ago. Bo would dress up in sexy lingerie and try to seduce Lauren when she got home. She would try instigating sex anytime and anywhere, trying to get some semblance of their old flare back, but there was always something else going on. Bo had to work. Lauren was exhausted. Janine was in the hospital again. Eventually, their passion got put on the back burner and both of them became too busy to pay their relationship the attention it needed to flourish. Bo was fairly certain that Lauren was aware of the problem as well, but there just never seemed to be a good time to address it.

So like any problem that went unchecked, it sat and festered between them for a few years, and now it seemed as if it would never come back. It frustrated Bo endlessly because as much as she wanted it to come back, they _both_ had to play a part in solving the problem.

Now she'd messed up and forgotten about her mother-in-law's big doctor's appointment today. Once Lauren reminded her, she distinctly remembered the conversation — and how thrilled Lauren sounded to have her mother being seen by one of the top neurologists in the country. Bo promised that very day that she wouldn't miss the appointment, even promised to do the driving herself. She'd simply forgotten when her client asked for a meeting. But the damage was already done at that point.

Bo sent Lauren a text message when she woke up in an empty bed. She wasn't expecting an immediate response from Lauren while she was driving, but as the day wore on, the lack of response was beginning to bother Bo. She needed to apologize yet again, and Lauren wasn't exactly making it easy on her. By the time Bo's meeting with her client started, she was downright irritable. It didn't help that she didn't much like the client she was working for either.

The Malikovs were real pieces of work. Their eighteen year old daughter had run away months ago, and instead of seeking help from the police, they called Bo. The reason? They were convinced she was involved in some sort of drug trafficking ring, and were "concerned about their daughter being caught up with the wrong types of people." Bo could see right through their bullshit though. They were too well versed in the goings on of the town's drug dealers. They didn't want to find their runaway daughter; they just wanted an easy route into the drug trafficking ring for their own financial benefit. But as part of her contract, Bo signed a confidentiality clause before she was given the full details of the case, and she was legally forbidden from providing any of those details to the police. It was good money for Bo, but she always felt dirty at the end of the day, like she needed to wash off the skeeviness with several hot showers.

As it was, Bo didn't have much to provide them today in the way of updates. She was following the young girl's movements closely. Their daughter was attending school regularly, and there was nothing out of the ordinary showing up on her credit card or bank statements. The phone numbers she was calling were not to anybody in the criminal record database. Bo's sources within the police department didn't have her interacting with any of the known dealers or distributors around town.

In short, there was nothing to report. The Malikovs obviously weren't thrilled with the news, but there was nothing Bo could do about it. She would just continue to monitor the situation. She needed to catch a break through. Lauren's teaching salary only paid so much, and they had bills to pay. Lots of bills to pay, in fact.

Bo arrived back at the precinct late in the afternoon to check in with the beat cops who were finishing their shifts, and just like yesterday and the days before that, there were no new developments. She collapsed into one of the armchairs in the work area that was generally reserved for friends and family members involved in cases and buried her face in her hands. After all of this, she couldn't afford to not follow through on this case.

"Hey, Bo!" a deep familiar voice called out. "What a surprise, seeing you back here. Thought you had some sort of meeting or something today."

Bo didn't even need to look up to know who it was or what he was wearing. She could picture the bearded face before she even looked up. "Hi, Dyson," Bo groaned, not even bothering to bring her face out of her hands. "I just got done forty-five minutes ago."

"That bad, huh?"

"Worse." She finally lifted her head up, and saw exactly what she expected. Dyson was wearing his tight black jeans and black shirt with his black leather vest. He must have owned an entire closet full of variations on the same outfit. "I mean, it's not like I have anything new to tell them. I'm a private investigator. I _investigate_ things. I'm not supposed to let a teenage girl outsmart me!" Bo said, getting flustered.

"You'll figure it out," Dyson replied, running his hands through his curly hair. "Listen, Hale and I were just about to grab a few beers if you wanted to join. There's a cop bar over on Ash Street, so you could meet a few more of the boys if you wanted to."

Bo considered him for a moment. To say this day had been "not fun" would have been a tremendous understatement. She could either go home, and wallow in her misery alone, or she could have a beer with some friends at work. It really wasn't that hard a choice.

"Sure," Bo said. "Sounds like fun."

Dyson grinned widely at her. "Good, we'll meet you over there."

The bar was much louder than Bo expected and a lot more crowded. It was mostly cops, she realized when she recognized many of the people milling about, but there also appeared to be a fair number of regular civilians. She could barely hear herself think over the loud music and conversation, but she spotted both Hale and Dyson already by the bar. She wedged her way through the crowd of people and slowly made her way toward the bar.

"Bo! 'Sup girl!" Hale said once he saw her approaching. He hadn't even bothered taking off his hat before coming into the dark bar, and it looked terribly out of place. He seemed to enjoy wearing it though, so Bo refrained from commenting on it.

"Hey, Hale," Bo greeted as he pulled her into his side for a quick hug. "I see you two are wasting no time getting to the hard stuff. Thought you said it was just gonna be a couple of beers?" she asked Dyson, noticing the collection of empty shot glasses scattered around them on the bar top.

"We will have a couple of beers…" Dyson shrugged. "I just failed to mention when." He and Hale both threw back the series of whiskey shots placed in front of them. Bo watched them both in amusement, and Dyson let out a deep breath as he savored the burn in the back of his throat. "You gonna join us, or you just gonna stand there and be a spectator?"

"Girl, you better take a shot, or my boy is gonna start charging you admission," Hale added, shaking his head.

"Fine," Bo said, taking up a stool between them at the bar. "Let's do this."

Hale pumped his fist in the air, and beckoned the bartender over again. "Bartender, can I get two more rounds over here, please?" he asked motioning to the three of them. The bartender came back in no time to pour their drinks. Bo eyed her shot glasses warily. It had been a while since she'd really had a lot of alcohol, and she at least wanted to be able to wake up in the morning. "To fighting crime," Hale said, picking up the first and holding it high in front of him.

"To fighting crime," Dyson agreed, lifting his glass as well.

Both of them looked at Bo, waiting for her to join in as well.

"To finding the bad guys," Bo added. She lifted up her glass and they all clinked them together in unison.

Hale and Dyson threw theirs back instantly, wasting no time putting their shots away. Bo hesitated, taking one last look at the dark amber liquid. It was just a moment, then she abandoned all resolve and took the shot in one gulp. It burned like acid in her mouth, but it felt exhilarating. Before Bo knew it, they were taking their second shots, and Hale already ordered them some more.

"So how long have you and Hale been partners, anyway?" Bo asked while Hale was busy talking to the bartender.

"Not long," Dyson answered. "Almost three months."

"Three months next week," Hale corrected, coming back to the conversation after finishing his other one. "It's a big anniversary, D-man. Is it gonna be dinner, movies, and a romantic night out on the town?"

"Only if you don't wear that stupid ass hat," Dyson deadpanned.

Hale bent over to whisper in Bo's ear loudly. "Don't let him fool you, he's just wants one for himself."

"You know I'm surprised," Bo said, ignoring the banter between them. "You two act like you've known each other for a lot longer."

"We have," Dyson said. "Hale and I know each other from way back in high school."

Hale nodded. "Yeah, he and my sister dated — high school quarterback and head cheerleader. You two were a such a cliché."

Dyson rolled his eyes at his best friend.

"How come you are only just now partners?" Bo asked. Given how well they knew each other, it didn't make sense that they wouldn't be partners from the start.

"Dyson's old partner got fired," Hale chuckled, staring off in space as if he were amused by some memory.

"It was pretty… umm… epic," Dyson agreed.

"What happened?" Bo asked.

"She and Trick were arguing one day, and she totally snapped," Hale said. "Called him a 'duplicitous prick' and started screaming at him, really making a scene. He fired her, of course — took her badge and her gun. He told her to clear out of her desk and get out of the precinct. You know what she did?"

Dyson chuckled, and Bo shook her head.

"She called him a smarmy bastard, took two pots of coffee from the break room, and poured both of them all over his desk. Then she flipped Trick off and stormed out of the precinct."

"Wow," was all Bo could manage to say.

"Yup," Hale nodded. "Ballsy."

"What happened to her?"

"We don't know," Hale said. "Obviously I think she's pretty much blackballed in law enforcement, but I haven't heard anything about where she ended up after all that. It'd be interesting to see."

As if on cue, the bartender arrived with more shots, and this time, all three of them took theirs without hesitation, even Bo. She wasn't drunk yet, but she was starting to feel the pleasant buzz. The two cops didn't seem phased by it at all. They took more and more together, and by the sixth or seventh, Bo was starting to feel the effects in full force. She was definitely drunk. If she'd been able to think logically, she would have known to cut herself off and go home. It was dark already, and she would most certainly be nursing a hangover tomorrow.

But she wasn't able to think logically, so she stayed.

The beers promised came later, mainly because neither Dyson, Hale, nor Bo could keep up the pace they set with hard liquor anymore. Hale had already turned his hat inside out and hat it propped askew on his head, and Dyson was oblivious to the fact that he'd spilled beer down the front of his vest. Bo was holding on to the dirty bar top for dear life as the room was spinning out of control. Of the three of them, Hale actually seemed to be the most functional, and he was still making a fool of himself. Luckily for them, it wasn't at odds with the atmosphere in the rest of the bar. It was an establishment cops went to for a good time, so they weren't alone in their revelry.

"Yo, Dyson," Hale slurred. He was clearly trying to whisper, but he was practically yelling. "Check out lil' mama at 5 o'clock."

Dyson glanced back over his right shoulder at the woman Hale was referring to. There was only one possibility in the crowd, and he spotted the long, beautiful pair of legs instantly. She was bent over a pool table at the side of the bar, readying herself to take a shot. The skirt was inching slowly as she bent further over… just a bit further…

"Nice," Dyson commented.

"I think it's time I showed her my skills, huh?" Hale brushed the lapels of his shirt pompously. "Show her how us Santiagos play the game."

Dyson laughed openly at him, and Bo couldn't help but join in with him. Hale looked so ridiculous that neither of them could contain it if they tried.

"Sure thing, brother. Just remember not to gamble your week's paycheck away, all right?" Dyson said through his snorts of laughter.

"Puh-lease." Hale pointed his own thumb to his chest. "Best billiards player in ten counties, _at least_," he bragged.

"Uh huh, absolutely."

Hale hopped down from his bar stool. "That's right… and don't you forget it."

He marched himself over toward the beautiful woman, and as he passed Bo, she reached out to pull the ridiculous hat off his head. The thing was awful enough when it was on correctly, but when it was inside out and crooked, it became unbearable. Bo was only doing him a favor. He didn't even notice the removal and continued right on with his predatory game.

"That's not gonna end well," Dyson mused, taking another sip of his beer.

Bo was finished with hers and hadn't gotten another yet. She peeled at the label to keep herself occupied. "Probably not." She turned to watch the scene behind her. Whoever the woman was currently playing had just lost. She was hustling people, and in all likelihood, Hale would be next. "But maybe he'll learn right?"

"Doubtful," Dyson chuckled. "I've known him for over fifteen years, and he hasn't learned yet."

"You two are good together," Bo said with a nod. Dyson raised his eyebrows at her skeptically. "As partners, dumbass," she added. "Though you two _do_ bicker like a married couple, I'll give you that."

Dyson glanced at the band on Bo's finger, reaching to pick Bo's hand up from the bar top. He held her hand in his larger ones, and Bo couldn't tell if the gesture was supposed to be friendly or completely not innocent. "Is that how _you_ bicker?"

"Not quite," Bo mumbled.

"I see." There was a pause, but Dyson didn't let Bo's hand go. They were much too warm, and the bar itself was beginning to feel a bit stuffy. "I wouldn't know about that, myself."

Bo gently pulled her hand out of his grasp and busied herself with the label on her beer bottle again. "It's not that bad most days."

"Maybe I'll try it sometime," he said, looking at Bo.

"You should. The good parts make up for it." Bo thought back to some her old memories, and she couldn't help smiling to herself. Then she remembered that Lauren was gone, and the smile left just as quickly as it came.

"I think I will."

The two of them enjoyed a few more beers together, occasionally checking in on Hale's progress with the beautiful pool shark. He'd been slaughtered the first game, so he demanded a best two of three. The second game didn't appear to be going much better for him. There was a loud cheer from the surrounding spectators, and Hale emerged a few minutes later with a triumphant look on his face.

"Damn, Hale. Did you win?" Dyson asked incredulously. From what he and Bo saw earlier, Hale was a goner.

"Nah, man," Hale said, showing off a toothy grin. "Even better."

Bo blinked at him. "Wait… what?"

Hale pulled out a napkin from his pocket and unfolded it, holding it out for both of them to see. "I got a phone number!" he chanted in a sing-song voice, doing a little shake of his hips in rhythm with the words.

All three of them looked back at the gorgeous woman still lingering around the pool table. She gave Hale a smirk before blowing a kiss at him, inflating his ego even more.

"Wow," was all Dyson could manage.

"Yep, I know. Please try to contain your jealousy," Hale said. "But if you two are sufficiently juiced, I think I have accomplished enough this evening."

"I'm done," Bo said.

Dyson nodded. "Me too."

"And look at this," Hale said, opening his wallet. "I _still_ have enough money for a cab. I swear you don't give me enough credit." He shook his head, grabbing his hat off the bar again.

All three of them crammed in the back of the taxi, and in any other situation, it would have been any easy fit. But all of them were too inebriated to maneuver the tight space, and they basically piled in on top of one another. Hale's place was a couple of blocks away, so he was dropped of first, leaving Bo and Dyson alone as the driver headed to Bo's house next.

The yellow cab stopped out front, and Dyson reached across the seat to open Bo's door for her. The movement brought him much too close. Bo couldn't help but feel the brush of his arm against her breast wasn't accidental either. She stayed completely still until he pulled his arm back, but he was still leaning toward her.

"Thank you, Dyson," Bo said, stepping out of the cab. She went slow to avoid tripping or losing her balance.

"Anytime. Thanks for coming out tonight."

"Yeah… It was…" Bo paused, searching for the right word, "…fun."

"Maybe we could do it again sometime," he asked hopefully.

"Maybe."

"I'll see you tomorrow?"

Bo nodded, and Dyson smiled at her before reaching forward again to close the door. The cab drove off, leaving Bo standing alone on the sidewalk outside her house. It was dark, and she had no idea what time it was, nor did she have much desire to check. All she wanted was to collapse in bed and sleep off the alcohol running through her veins. Slowly but surely, she made her way inside, haphazardly throwing her bag on the kitchen counter and removing her clothes as the made her way to the bad. She kicked them into a pile on the floor and collapsed face first into the soft mattress.

Bo didn't see the missed calls or the three voicemails on her phone, all from her wife.


	2. Breaking News

The hotel room Lauren reserved last night wasn't put to use, and she didn't think they would be staying there at all during the time away from home.

Janine was admitted yesterday evening after a terribly long day, and Lauren was thankful that it was at least a private room. She was able to shower in the individual bathroom, and she slept on the cushioned window seat overlooking the city outside. The only downside was the light pouring in as soon as the sun came up. Lauren was awake by half past six, but she definitely needed more sleep than that.

Her mother received the first round of her high-dose steroids late last night, and true to her word, Dr. Everett had come in to check on her while the IV was running. She explained her plan for the next few days — how Lauren's mother would be placed on seventy-two hours of IV steroids, then they would go home on a steroid taper. Lauren felt confident that she knew what was going on now at least, and she was eternally grateful for Dr. Everett's assistance.

Lauren stretched her legs out off the edge of the window seat and climbed down, leaving the thin blanket and pillow behind her in a neat little pile. The nursing staff had been in and out monitoring her mother all night, so there wasn't much new to assess in the past few hours. But Lauren still felt the need to check everything again as her mom slept — just to make sure.

She pushed her mother's short hair away from her eyes where it had fallen sometime during the night and smiled. Sometimes in moments like these, she could almost forget that her mom was sick.

Those eyes, that nose, that mouth — all so strikingly similar to Lauren's — hadn't changed much in the last thirty years. At least not to Lauren, anyway. The graying hair had been more noticeable, but it wasn't as drastic because of Janine's original blond. Only when Lauren looked back at old photographs did she really notice the difference time had made, and even then, her mother was one of those people that handled the aging process gracefully. At sixty-three, she was still beautiful.

Janine's eyes fluttered open at the light touch, and her brown eyes glanced at Lauren curiously.

"You can relax, Lauren. I'm not dead yet," she mumbled to her daughter.

"I know. I was just seeing how you were doing."

"Same as when you asked a few hours ago." Janine gave her a small grin. "Is this how you wake up everyone in the morning?"

"Hardly," Lauren chuckled.

"Hmmm. Looks like I'll have to ask Bo about that one." Lauren flinched almost imperceptibly, but Janine noticed it. Her grin went away, and she looked at Lauren seriously. "Have you spoken to her yet, dear?"

Lauren shook her head. "I left her messages last night, but she didn't call back."

"Don't you think you should ring her again? She may have just missed it."

"It's really early, mum."

"So?" Janine gave her _that look_, the one that left no room for argument. She'd just used her trump card on Lauren.

"Fine."

Janine made a shooing motion with her left hand, dismissing Lauren from the room, and Lauren could only laugh before grabbing her bag and leaving. As soon as the door clicked shut behind her, she dialed up the home number and waited as it rang.

Once. Twice. Five times.

Just before the answering machine picked up, the line connected, and there was a loud rustling on the other side.

"Hullo?" Lauren instantly recognized Bo's voice, but it was thick and hoarse, almost like a growl. She had obviously woken Bo up, and her wife sounded particularly groggy this morning.

"Hey, Bo. It's me." More rustling in the background.

Bo coughed to clear her throat. "Lauren… Hi…" she breathed out, her voice still raspy. What time are you getting back today? I miss you."

Lauren blinked in confusion. "Did you not get the messages I left you last night?"

"No, I was…" Bo trailed off.

Lauren waited for an answer, but none came. "Mom got admitted last night."

"Oh God, is she okay?" As far as Bo was aware, there was only supposed to be a regular doctor's appointment yesterday. The fact that it turned into a hospitalization had her worried.

"She's fine Bo. There were some changes on her MRI, so they're going to keep her for a couple more days," Lauren explained. "Just to make sure everything's all right."

Bo let out a deep exhale. "Oh, okay. That's good then."

"Dr. Everett had some ideas for different treatments that we can look into when we get back. She's going to get us set up while we're here."

"I thought she'd already been on everything?"

"There are a couple of options left. I'll explain it more when I get back," Lauren said. There was too much to discuss in one phone conversation, and Lauren didn't have the fortitude to do it just yet. "We need to talk, Bo."

There was silence on the other end of the line.

"Bo?" Lauren said.

"Yeah, talk," Bo sputtered, seemingly breaking out of her trance. "Talking, good. Yes."

Lauren's brow furrowed. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine. I just…" Bo trailed off again. "When are you coming back home?"

"Monday."

"That's three days from now!" Lauren could practically hear Bo pouting through the phone.

"It's the best I can do, hon."

Clicking of heels echoed in the hall behind Lauren, and she turned around to see Dr. Everett approaching. There were younger doctors following her that Lauren hadn't met before, obviously the residents working under Dr. Everett's supervision. Lauren gave all of them a polite nod as they waited for Lauren to finish her conversation.

"Bo, I have to go... Dr. Everett is here," Lauren said quietly.

"Oh…" Bo sighed.

"I'll see you soon, all right?"

"Okay," Bo replied. "Oh — and Lo?" she added quickly.

"Yes?"

"I love you."

Lauren smiled softly. "I love you too."

* * *

The phone ringing nearly scared Bo out of her own skin. Its blaring sounded at least as loud as an ambulance siren, and she must have cursed for a solid ten seconds before she was finally able to untangle herself from the sheets.

Not to mention, her head hurt like fire.

Lauren's voice had been a welcome sound, but Bo's initial elation came spiraling down again when she heard that she and her mom were staying in the hospital hours away from their home. Similar things had happened before, of course, but they were always close by. Their usual hospital was only fifteen minutes away, so Janine being admitted usually didn't keep her and Lauren apart for days at a time. It couldn't be helped though, and that only meant Bo would have to make do by herself until after the weekend was over.

Unfortunately for Bo, once the phone rang, she wasn't able to drift off again. She tossed in the bed fitfully, waiting for sleep to take her, but it never came. After a couple of hours, Bo simply gave up, sitting upright and groaning as the movement caused the room to start spinning again.

The first thing Bo needed was coffee — lots and lots of coffee. Then if she could control her headache, she could _possibly_ get some work done today. It was the perfect time to work on the Malikov case now that the opportunity presented itself. The girl would be out of school, and today Bo could do firsthand surveillance — scope out the people she spent time with, where she hung out. Bo needed to build a better profile, something deeper than the reports a database search could give her.

Bo took her coffee to go, using one of the special mugs Lauren got her that actually fit in her Camaro's cupholders (none of the ones Bo found at the store ever did). Sunglasses were the last necessary accessory to protect the hungover brunette from the blazing sunlight outside, and Bo grabbed her biggest pair before heading out the door.

Over the past week, she'd gathered some basic intel from the precinct's beat cops. While they weren't able to give any reports of interaction with the city's dealers, they were able to drop names of some of the kids the Malikov girl spent time with. Many of her associates had at least one juvie offense — though most were minor. That gave Bo the means to track her more accurately, and for that, she was thankful.

The young girl and her two friends chose an odd venue for their weekend hangout. Bo didn't think the reasoning was nostalgia, but the three teenagers were apparently spending their day at an elementary school playground. Bo tracked the phone numbers on one of the associates herself, an older kid named Vex, and it led her straight to them.

The beat cops officially earned Bo's gratitude with that development.

Bo was sure to keep herself inconspicuous, parking her bright yellow car far away from the scene. She was tucked behind a smattering of trees along the edge of the park area, and there was enough cover to camouflage her well. She obviously couldn't listen at that distance, but she made use of her position by watching them while they were unawares. Bo took note of their every move, taking sips of her coffee at intervals. It provided a pleasant warmth on the cool day, but Bo relished the way it was soothing her headache more than anything else.

What Bo saw intrigued her. Every so often, another teenage kid would approach; the group already there would talk for a bit or sit on the swings together for a while, but then they left. Just like that. The entire exchange happened over twenty minutes, and there didn't appear to be any foul play involved that Bo could see. But there was something suspicious about the apparently innocent meetings, at least in Bo's mind.

Firstly, high school kids typically didn't hang out at children's playgrounds just for fun — at least that was Bo's teenage experience. They were at the age where they had the smallest teases of adulthood; they wouldn't regress to playing in playgrounds. Not to mention, for the most part, they _weren't_ playing. The younger kids that were there playing gave the older ones a wide berth, staying well away from them as they loitered around the park.

An unexpected tap on her passenger's side window made her jump in surprise, and she reached over to crank it down. Dyson lowered his head to peek into the vehicle. He was cycling, and he balanced himself with one leg while he was stopped at the car.

"You're parked illegally," he grinned. If he was feeling any effects from last night's activities, he wasn't showing it. There was sweat dripping from his shirt, so he'd clearly been riding for a while. "Are you trying to get a ticket?"

Bo's heart rate quickly slowed back to its normal pace as she recovered from her initial alarm. She cleared her throat before saying: "Why? You planning on giving me one?"

"No, but I can't make promises for other officers. Just looking out for your best interests."

"If that were the case, you would have cut me off last night. I feel like shit."

"Really?" Dyson frowned. "Huh."

"And clearly _you_ do not."

"No, you're right. I feel pretty good actually." He stretched his arms out wide over his head before bring them back to rest on his handlebars. Bo rolled her eyes at him, an expression Dyson couldn't see through her dark sunglasses. "But really though… This place is pretty popular for joggers, and it has a nice bike trail, but not many people come to sightsee. Are you waiting for someone?"

Bo let out an exasperated sigh. Why wouldn't he just let her get on with her work? "No," she said, trying as hard as she could to keep the growing irritation out her voice.

"Oh I get it," Dyson said, the corners of his mouth turning up at the corners and pulling into a grin. "You're on a stakeout. This is about those records I pulled for you a couple of days ago isn't it?"

Bo glared at him, but he continued on obliviously.

"Eighteen year old female, about five-foot-two," he mused, raising his head above the top of the Camaro to scope out Bo's target for himself. "Aha! That must be her over there!"

Did he not understand that Bo was aiming to be inconspicuous? Dyson may not have shouted the exclamation, but it still felt much too loud and obvious.

"Keep your voice down, are you out of your mind?!" Bo hissed at him.

"Come on, Bo. There's _no_ way she heard that all the way over there." He glanced at the teens in the park, giving them an appraising look. "It's interesting though."

"What is?"

"Well, they're hanging out in a public area with a lot of random passers-by, in an area that at least logically they wouldn't have anything to do with." Bo nodded; she'd figured out that much for herself. "And they've also got a couple of older ones helping them with the lookout."

"What?" Bo asked.

She'd only noticed the two other boys, one wearing all black with messy black hair, and another hulking teen that looked closer to a man than a boy. His head was shaved, and he was wearing a shirt that hugged his chest tightly, emphasizing just how big he really was.

Dyson pointed toward the edge of the playground, where the rest of the children were playing. There were lots of parents, all of them watching their own children carefully, but there was one couple that didn't look old enough to have kids yet — at least not kids that were old enough to be playing on jungle gyms and swing sets. Bo kept her eyes glued to them watching their every movement, and after a few seconds, she caught a subtle hand signal from the older couple.

"I'll be damned," Bo said.

"Yep. It kind of sucks that you can't do anything about it though."

Bo swiveled back around in her chair to face Dyson. "What do you mean?" she asked.

"I mean that yes, logically, there's something weird going on. I'd bet my badge that it was drug dealing, but you can't just walk up there and search them. Even if you _did_ manage to find something, it wouldn't help your case."

"Why not?"

"You'd need a warrant. As a cop, I need at least reasonable suspicion to get that, but _you_ would need probable cause and permission from the district attorney to request it from a judge," Dyson explained. "And you'd need to have your evidence all lined up to even have a chance at that."

Bo glanced out the window at the teens in the park. It seemed so obvious what they were doing, but how was she supposed to go about actually _proving_ it?

"That's why these cases are so hard, and why a lot of them never get solved," Dyson continued. "These are small timers, and in the grand scheme of things, there are really not enough resources to launch full scale investigations for a few kids selling dope on the streets to their buddies at school. Sometimes, we get lucky, but most of the time, there's not a lot we can do about it if the kids are being smart."

Bo sighed. "And I bet they've gotten smarter, huh?"

"Most of them, yes," Dyson said with a shrug. "They definitely know our playbook, and that being said, most of them can avoid being caught because they aren't involved in a huge operation and can cover their tracks."

Bo continued to stare at the three teens in the park, envisioning various scenarios in which they could be operating. It was wishful thinking on her part, almost as if her brainstorming was accomplishing actual work. None of it was actually adding anything to her investigation, but at least imagining that she was solving the case did a number for her mood.

"You can figure this out, you know," Dyson said, watching Bo's continued stare. "It's gonna be hard, and it probably won't get done in a week, but you _can_ do it. I could even help you, if you wanted."

"You're not allowed to help me, Dyson, and you know that. Confidentiality clause, remember?" Bo reminded him.

"You don't have to give me any direct details on the case," Dyson said, offering his most charming smile. "You can just bounce ideas off me if you want, and I can tell you where you might _theoretically_ want to steer your investigation next."

Bo's brows furrowed together. "That sounds suspiciously like you working the case with me."

Dyson's smile only grew wider, if that were possible. "Except that it's not… Remember?"

Bo took one last look at the teens as they sat on the swings with another one of their _visitors_. Knowing what they were doing now irritated Bo. She could tell exactly what was about to happen, yet she couldn't see any drugs nor did she have any definitive proof that they were in fact dealing. Her hands were tied until she was able to discern every last detail and lay it out for the district attorney.

"Fine," Bo said. "I'll do it."

"Great." A triumphant look spread on Dyson's face. "I'll see you at the precinct on Monday then."

With a quick farewell wave, Dyson steadied himself back on the bicycle and pedaled off again. Bo continued to sit for a few minutes, watching more of the same — the inevitable pattern as more new teens approached and left quickly and businesslike. No visible exchange of money, and no visible exchange of drugs. But she was determined to prove her theory now that she'd witnessed the exchanges, though she still had no idea how they actually worked.

But in one thing though, it appeared the Malikovs were right: their daughter _was_ dealing.

* * *

Bo checked her phone again for what had to be the twentieth time this morning. Lauren would be coming back home today, and she was supposed to let Bo know when she was leaving. There was a load of paperwork for the hospital to fill about before they could leave, but they did assure Lauren that her mom would be leaving sometime this morning when everything was finalized.

Lauren seemed reticent when Bo spoke to her yesterday, which took Bo by surprise. Even though Lauren hadn't left town on the best terms, the blonde seemed to be better prior to yesterday's conversation. When Bo asked her how her mother was doing, Lauren only gave short, clipped answers. When she asked Lauren about Dr. Everett's plan for when they both came home, Lauren avoided discussing the subject at all, and simply said: "We'll talk when I get home." It felt ominous, and Bo couldn't help but feel on edge the entire morning.

She waited in her usual spot at the precinct, her knees bouncing while she sat to keep her mind occupied. She'd been early, even earlier than most of the detectives that worked there, so she was already seated as each of them filed in for the day.

"You're eager to start working this morning," Dyson said as he strolled by Bo. He shrugged off his jacket and threw it across the back of his chair before plopping down behind his desk. It was just across the visitor's area where Bo was seated, and he scratched his beard as he waited for her to join him.

"I'm eager to solve this case," Bo corrected him. She walked over to his desk and pulled out the wooden chair across from it. "Big difference."

"And here I thought you were just happy to see me."

"I wouldn't flatter yourself too much, Dyson." Bo crossed her arms in front of her chest. "Do you and Hale not have anything else to do today?"

"We busted a major burglary case last week. We're basically doing inventory of the stolen property all day — about a quarter of a million dollars worth." Dyson shook his head. "I'm not particularly looking forward to it."

"Well if you have too much other stuff to do, I can wait until —"

"Nonsense," Dyson interrupted. "I have as much time as you need. Hale's always been better at that stuff anyway."

Hale's voice sounded from down the hall: "Not that I doubt it, but what exactly am I better at than you now? You're gonna have to narrow it down a little." He started whistling as he strutted over to his desk next to Dyson's and sat down, the three of them forming a triangle in the cramped workroom. Hale glanced at his partner curiously before turning to their guest. "G'morning Bo," he said, offering the brunette a friendly smile.

"I was just telling Bo here how good you are at inventory paperwork," Dyson said, "how you're the _best_ at it."

"Aw dammit, Dyson… You are _not_ going to leave me doing that shit all by myself!" Hale said, throwing his hands in the air, but the smug look on Dyson's face only confirmed his suspicions. "Shit man! What happened to 'partners for life'?! You can't just dump all that crap on me."

Dyson smirked. "As I recall, you still still owe me from Lachlan's bachelor party — big time."

Hale's animated protest stopped at Dyson's reminder, and he sat still at his worn wooden desk. "You said you weren't gonna tell anyone about that…" He eyed Bo warily, as if afraid of what she might know.

"I didn't tell anyone anything. I was just reminding you — and cashing in on that favor you owed me."

Hales shoulders slumped in defeat, and he lowered his head. "Fine," he muttered. "I'll do it."

"Great. Thanks man." Dyson turned back to face Bo, missing the daggers that Hale stared into him.

Hale spent the next ten minutes grumbling to himself and slamming his desk drawers, and Bo was only able to catch a few of the curses he let out. He stalked off after that, and Bo wasn't aware until that moment that it was possible to whistle angrily. Somehow Hale managed it, and he left Dyson and Bo at the desk as he sulked away to do his paperwork for the rest of day. Now she felt kind of guilty for getting him stuck with all that work by himself.

"So, what do you know about your case?" Dyson asked her. Bo jerked her eyes away from where Hale disappeared, surprised at the sudden question. "Leave out the personal details, of course — just give me the basic gist." He leaned back and folded his hands together while he waited.

Bo sighed and recited the basics, running swiftly through the checklist in her head. "Female runaway, originally emancipated five months ago at seventeen years old, recently turned eighteen. No prior citations, two contacts with minor juvie offenses, no known contacts with drug-related or violent priors. Attends school regularly, and has no apparent financial irregularities. Last seen in a children's park with suspicious activity but no confirmed criminal activity."

Dyson grinned. "Not a bad report. I love the ambiguity."

"Hmm."

"So, based on what you're telling me, I can infer two things." He leaned forward but kept his hands linked together. "Number one, this girl is in charge of the group of misfit toys. And number two, this is a small time operation, and they are neither being supplied by nor selling to any of the major dealers in town."

Bo blinked at him, shaking her head in confusion. "And how did you make _that_ leap off of what I just told you?"

"She's got no priors, right?" he asked, and Bo nodded. "But her two buddies do. If they are caught in the middle of this thing, they would most likely be tried as adults or get harsher punishments based on their records. They wouldn't risk it. Plus, I have a feeling that she's actually been involved with crimes in the past and just hasn't been caught. That would make her a more attractive option for heading a small drug dealing ring if she were able to avoid police better."

"This is all circumstantial, Dyson," Bo shook her head. "None of this means anything to the investigation."

"It's not supposed to right now, though. This is the fun part." He smiled widely. "Making stories, putting a few puzzle pieces together. You don't have enough for the full picture yet, but once you get a few of the basic pieces bunched together, you get a clearer idea of where to look next. The evidence just falls into place after that."

Bo glanced at him curiously. It was the most enthusiastic Dyson had ever seemed about his job as a cop, and it was interesting to see him completely engrossed with it. Not many people would get as crazy about puzzle pieces and evidence, but Dyson did. He exuded that eagerness as a detective, and Bo had to admire it. Not many people found a job that they were that passionate about, yet it appeared as if Dyson had somehow found his calling — even if he didn't like doing the paperwork.

"And what about the other part?" Bo asked. "About them not being in business with the regular dealers?"

"A bunch of kids doing business with Massimo?" Dyson chuckled. "You wouldn't be investigating drug dealing, Hale and I would be investigating a homicide. His dealers have a habit of turning up dead after a while, and I can only imagine that a bunch of kids would get themselves killed even sooner."

Bo nodded in understanding.

Massimo was a local legend, but not in a good way. He had enough blood on his hands to make a vampire salivate, yet there was never quite enough evidence to find him guilty. And even when there was, his lawyer was able to get him off on a technicality. He'd had the run of the drug trade in the city for the better part of a decade, and most citizens were familiar with his face from the numerous news headlines he'd garnered.

He was the most famous and feared of the local drug kingpins, and all of the illicit business in this city went directly through Massimo. There was no other option — all the smaller distributors were his. These kids were still in school, alive, and visible in society. Massimo hadn't gotten his clutches on them yet, and they were too irrelevant for him to worry about taking them out at the moment.

"They'd _already_ be dead," Bo mused.

"That's right," Dyson agreed. "He's been known to kill for not much at all — miscalculating cuts, not selling enough product — even had one witness tell me he saw Massimo cut some guy's eye out when he 'looked at him the wrong way.'" Dyson shook his head in disgust. "Too bad we could never find the victim."

Bo shuddered. She's never had a real sympathy for drug dealers, but she was thankful she'd never had to deal with this guy before. That these kids were still breathing and not missing any body parts went against them working for any of the dealers in Massimo's ring.

"So these kids are working a small-time, independent operation," Bo though out loud. "What I need to do is find out who they're supplying and where their trying to draw their customer pool from." Her brows crinkled as she speculated more, and there was a pause while ideas ran through her head. "They're not selling to randoms on the street because they would be on Massimo's turf, so they must be pulling their customers from somewhere else… School, maybe?"

Dyson nodded. "That's where I would start if it were me."

"Well how exactly am I supposed to do that? It's not like I can ask the principal if I can start interrogating everyone from their senior class…"

Dyson scratched his head, looking pensive for a moment. "Did you go to college for at least two years?" he asked.

Bo nodded.

"I have an idea. Hold on for a sec…"

He sprang up from his desk and disappeared around the corner, leaving Bo dumbfounded in her seat. He didn't return for another ten minutes, but when he did, there was a mischievous glint in his eyes.

"I'm afraid to ask what that was about," Bo confessed as he sat down again.

"I just got off the phone with the school district office," Dyson explained. "They've got two classes they're trying to get substitutes for tomorrow; I told them you could take one."

Bo gaped at him. "Oh no, Dyson please tell me you didn't..."

"Do you prefer senior literature or advanced algebra?" he asked with a sly grin.

He _did_, apparently. He volunteered Bo as a substitute teacher tomorrow. Bo had to blink several times to recover from the shock.

"I prefer neither," Bo said. "My favorite class was history."

"Unfortunately, there aren't any openings for history tomorrow, or else I would have been happy to oblige. If you want to get on the inside though, this is the fastest way to do it," Dyson explained. "We've had plenty of cops do it before, and the district is very helpful with streamlining the process."

_They must really be desperate for teachers_, Bo thought. She couldn't imagine either Dyson or Hale having to work in that hormone-riddled environment. The very thought of Dyson as a high school teacher was absolutely laughable.

Dyson waited for her response, and although Bo wasn't particularly excited about either option provided, she was decidedly _not_ a fan of math — at all. It was her worst subject when she was in school. She'd repressed most of what she learned because she hated it, and she had no desire to revisit the experience again.

"Literature," Bo finally decided.

"Excellent choice," Dyson grinned. "I'll have the school call you and send over the materials for tomorrow, and the only thing I'll need from you is your college information so I can call their records office."

This was beginning to sound complicated, but Dyson appeared to have navigated the system before. It was odd to think that at any moment, the precinct could have appropriately accredited detectives placed as substitute teachers. The requirements for each school district varied, however, and Bo wondered whether that arrangement was common or just specific to their particular area.

There wasn't much else to do at the precinct now that Bo had a plan for moving her investigation forward. By half past ten, she'd left the precinct, and was on her way home for the rest of the day. Lauren sent her a message shortly after, saying that she and Janine were already on their way home. Bo could expect her back in several hours, and she planned to have dinner ready for her wife as soon as she got back. Lauren was usually the one that did those things, as she was the better cook (without question), but Bo hoped to surprise her — partly in an effort to apologize for forgetting about the appointment in the first place, but mostly because she simply wanted to do something thoughtful.

In the early afternoon, Bo received her lesson plans via email, and she groaned as she read through the material. She'd never read the book they were discussing, so most of her "free afternoon" was spent reading summaries and SparkNotes to prepare herself for tomorrow. By the time she finished, she had only the vaguest idea of what the story was about.

Before Bo's mother ran away with her man-toy Sergio, she used to say: _If you can't dazzle them with your brilliance, baffle them with your bullshit._ The bizarre bit of advice seemed particularly fitting now, and Bo hoped to just bullshit her way through the actual teaching part while she collected intel from the students at school.

With some semblance of a plan in mind, Bo started on dinner, waiting patiently for Lauren to get back home.

* * *

Lauren loaded both of her bags over her shoulder and pushed her way inside the door. It had been a long weekend, perhaps the longest of her life; she was more than ready to be back home. Her bags dragged against the door frame as she came inside, and she noticed a wonderful smell permeating the house when she closed the door.

"Hey, babe," Bo's voice sounded from the kitchen. "How was the trip?"

Lauren dropped her bags in the entranceway and rounded the corner to see her wife chopping vegetables in the distance. She was wearing Lauren's apron and had her hair tied back out of her face. Bo clearly put some effort into her cooking endeavor, and Lauren gave a small smile at the gesture. The blonde sighed and sat herself on the stool at the kitchen island. She and Bo could both see each other, but she wasn't in the brunette's way.

"Long… good… frustrating," Lauren answered honestly. "Probably some combination of the three."

The chopping ceased, and Bo looked up at her. "You want to talk about it?"

"I think we need to."

Bo took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "Okay."

Lauren couldn't miss the way she stiffened at those words. Bo sat the knife down tentatively, almost as if she were afraid it might jump up and attack her, and she came around the other side of the island slowly to join the blonde.

There was certainly some good news and bad news. Normally, Lauren would opt to give the bad news first to end a discussion on a more pleasant note, but in this case, the bad news had no context until she gave the good news first. The unpleasant part was also what their discussion would really be about, so she needed to discuss it later.

"Dr. Everett was great. I really wish you would have met her," Lauren started.

"Lauren, I'm —"

"Bo, it's fine," Lauren cut her off, knowing she was about to launch into an apology again. On any other day, she would have let Bo continue, but she needed to keep their discussion on track. "I know you would've liked to have been there. I know my mom would have liked to see you as well."

Bo's head fell, and she looked pointedly down at her own hands cradled in her lap. She understood that she didn't need to say anything, but Lauren could tell that she still felt guilty. There was nothing she could do about it now, though; Lauren needed to press on.

"There were new lesions," Lauren continued, causing Bo to look up again. "That's why we had to stay for a few days. Dr. Everett arranged it all while we were there."

"I figured as much," Bo said in a small voice. "How is she?"

"She's okay, all things considered."

"So that means that the new medicine didn't work then?"

Lauren nodded.

She and Bo were assured that the latest medication prescribed was the best available, and at a price of over two thousand dollars per month, they both expected better results. Lauren's insurance through the school only payed for a tiny portion of it, and combined with Janine's other bills, it was already putting a significant strain on their finances. Had the outcome been better, it might have been less frustrating. But it felt like wasted time and money, and they were no closer to getting a suitable treatment — at least not yet, anyway.

"So, what did Dr. Everett have to say?" Bo asked.

Lauren paused to collect herself before answering. This had been the part of the discussion she was most concerned about, and she didn't want to screw everything up.

"There's still another option," Lauren explained, making sure to speak as slowly and as clearly as she could. "But it's a little complicated."

"Well, another option, that sounds good… How is it complicated?" Bo frowned in confusion.

"It's not covered by my insurance," Lauren said, pausing to let Bo process that bit of information. The current medication her mother was taking was only ten percent covered by Lauren's insurance, so the news wasn't _that_ surprising, but it was still a blow nonetheless.

"Okay, well I could always pick up a few extra shifts bartending again… I still have my license, and the manager always liked me, and —" Bo stopped when she saw Lauren's head bow forward, shaking her head. "Lo? What's wrong?"

"It won't be enough, Bo." She couldn't find it in herself to meet Bo's eyes. "The treatments are anywhere from fifteen to twenty thousand dollars per session, and that's not even including the hospital stay."

"Oh." Bo instantly deflated at the news. "Well… uh… how often are they?"

"For the first two months, once a week. Then after that, anywhere from two to four times a month, depending on how she responds."

Bo's sharp intake of breath told Lauren everything she needed to know. On the drive home, Lauren had done the math; she knew how much it would cost to have those treatments. According to Dr. Everett, it was emerging as the most reliable method for treating the progressive form of her mother's disease, but it wasn't often used due to cost... And Lauren could understand why.

She and Bo hadn't even finished paying for their house yet. They were already forced to refinance it in the past — twice — and they were still just barely managing the minimum payments every month. It was possible for them, but they lived under a strict budget and didn't have much leeway for additional expenses. There were no vacations. There weren't lavish nights out or shopping sprees. They kept the old beat up Camaro instead of getting another car. They made enough for their basic existence, and no more.

She and Bo had sacrificed enormously to accommodate their unique financial situation. When her Janine first started requiring more expensive medicine, Lauren abandoned her PhD and contracting job to take an immediate position at the high school that offered medical benefits. Bo was once a part-time bartender with dreams of becoming a detective, and she'd also abandoned those dreams before she even enrolled in the police academy, opting for the more immediate P.I. certification.

It had been enough for a while. Lauren enjoyed her job for the most part, though it fell short of the research she always wanted to do. Bo never got the detective training she desired either. It was tolerable; they both made do with the options available to them, and they were able to keep their finances manageable.

Now, even those personal sacrifices wouldn't be enough. The silence was deafening between them, and neither one knew what to say for several long moments.

"I had an idea," Lauren said, finally breaking through the void. "Isaac runs his own lab down on Somerset, I could see if he had any positions available."

Bo's head snapped to attention at the mention of Lauren's former classmate. "Absolutely not!" She looked indignant at the mere suggestion. "How could you even _consider_ working for him?"

Bo was more than familiar with Lauren's history with Isaac Taft — though he was called _Dr. Taft_ now. That's why Lauren was hesitant to suggest her idea, though she didn't have many options left. There was only one major chemical plant in the city, and Taft owned it now. If Lauren seriously wanted a job in the field, it would have to come from him.

"It has to pay more than what I'm making, Bo," Lauren reasoned. "Teachers in this district don't exactly earn lavish salaries. Any lab job there would pay at least twice what I'm making now."

"But this is the same guy that spread a rumor that you were sleeping with your professor, harassed you on _more_ than one occasion — and to top it all off — stole your thesis research after you left and presented it as his own!" Bo's voice started to raise as she finished her rant against Lauren's ex-colleague. "How could you _possibly_ want to work for that asshole?!"

Truthfully, Lauren did not want to work for Taft at all. He was a deplorable human being, just as Bo described him. Lauren witnessed that firsthand years ago. She and Bo were only a couple of years into their marriage back then, and when Bo first heard of Taft's actions she was shocked — but that quickly transformed into inconsolable rage. Yet Bo never met him personally, which was probably for the best since she threatened to skin him alive with a cheese grater and throw him into a salt bath if she ever got her hands on him.

"It's just an idea, hon," Lauren said in a gentle voice. "I'm not planning on asking him for a job anytime soon."

Lauren expected some pushback from Bo when she introduced the plan, and she was prepared to talk Bo down as well. The flare in Bo's nostrils relaxed, and the angry crinkles in her forehead smoothed over. She seemed mollified by Lauren's words and stood down from whatever argument she'd been poised to make.

But the prospect of working for Dr. Taft, which Lauren was personally averse to, was something that might indeed become a reality if no other solution presented itself. Taft asked her numerous times over the past few years to come work for his new startup company — and offered great wages for her to do so. Of course, Lauren always declined for personal reasons, but back then her financial situation had never been so dire. Could she endure working underneath someone that was duplicitous and vile, at least for the sake of her own mother? Lauren believed she could… not that she'd much enjoy it.

"It's just something we need to figure out, okay?" Lauren said, waiting for Bo's eyes to meet hers again. She put as much emotion as she could into her final word.

Their eyes locked for a moment, and finally Bo conceded. "Okay."

For some reason, even though the conversation was short, it still felt like the longest conversation they'd had in a while. Bo and Lauren both felt drained by the end of it, and while the issues weren't exactly resolved, they were all out in the open. All they had to do now was find a solution that worked for both women — a compromise of sorts. They'd managed it before in their marriage, and Lauren was confident they could do it again. She inhaled a deep, replenishing breath and noticed the aroma permeating the house for the first time.

A tentative smile started to form at the corners of her mouth as she took in the mouth-watering scent. "Whatever you're making, it smells good," she said.

"It's nothing like what you make, but it's all right." The brunette's head dipped down in shy acknowledgment of the compliment, but the light blush that crept up Bo's cheeks didn't escape Lauren's notice. "I just wanted to have something ready for when you got back."

Lauren knew Bo felt guilty about missing the appointment, which was part of the reason why she couldn't really stay mad at her for very long, especially when she went out of her way with thoughtful gestures. This was Bo's way of compensating, trying to make things right in her own special way. It was something so intrinsically _Bo_, and she'd done it since the beginning, even when they were both only dating.

So for the first time in what felt like a long time, Bo and Lauren actually shared their meal together. It felt almost normal, and for the next hour, it was easy to forget that there was a huge hurdle before them. They simply forgot about the present day struggles and allowed themselves to indulge in reminiscing about the past. Neither of them realized just how badly they needed it until that moment. There was still much to talk about and many struggles coming their way, but at least for now, it was enough.


	3. School's Out

The class Bo was substituting for was off first period, so her morning started an hour and a half later than the rest of the school's. Lauren had already left, Bo realized when she woke up. As Bo slid into her pencil skirt, she realized something glaring that she forgot yesterday: she hadn't told Lauren she would be joining her at the school today. With all the conversation they'd had yesterday, Bo got too sidetracked by the developments with her mother in-law.

"Shit, shit, shit…" Bo hissed, quickly zipping the skirt and throwing on a tailored button up shirt. It's not as if Lauren would be unhappy to see Bo at work, but she would have been miffed about Bo neglecting to tell her, especially since Bo forgot her mom's appointment not even four days ago. She scrambled through the bedroom to retrieve her phone from the nightstand.

Bo typed Lauren a message quickly: _Hey, babe. Can you call me as soon as you get a moment? I love you._

She wasn't expecting a phone call from Lauren anytime in the next few minutes. Bo knew her wife would be right in the middle of class at this point, though she hoped to at least speak to her before second period, when her own work began. Bo kept habitually checking her phone on the way to school, flicking the screen on every time she stopped at a traffic light. She frowned yet again; Lauren hadn't called or messaged her back yet.

Bo ignored the curious stares from the teenagers in the hallway as she navigated her way to class. She'd been at the school several times before helping Lauren with various decorations for her room, but she'd never visited when students were present. Her classroom for today was in the back hallway, so she had to trudge through the entire length of the school just to reach her destination. As many people did to avoid interacting with other people, Bo pretended to be on her phone — in her case, acting as if she were responding to the text message she _wished_ she'd gotten from Lauren.

Bo felt the teens' eyes all on her. She understood that she was an unknown entity in the school, but Bo stilled wished they would stop staring. She focused all her energy on her phone screen, willing it to alert her of a message from her wife. She was so focused, she didn't even see the person walking in front of her. Bo was only alerted to their presence when she ran into them head first, nearly knocking them both over.

Bo was quick to offer an apology, but the other person was quicker. The start of Bo's words caught suddenly in her throat as she recognized the voice. She would have recognized it anywhere.

"I'm so sorry, I wasn't looking where I —" Lauren stopped mid-sentence after recovering her balance. Her eyes grew wide as she took in Bo's presence and her professional attire. "Bo?" She blinked several times, as if to make sure she wasn't hallucinating. "What are you doing here?"

Bo evaded the question. "Did you get my message?"

"No, I didn't. I don't use my phone during class — you know that." Lauren glanced up and down, taking in every single detail of Bo's attire, from the four inch pumps to the form fitting skirt suit. She licked her lips and swallowed thickly. "Why are you dressed like that?"

The muscles in Bo's back and shoulders bunched up tightly, the tension in her mind making itself known elsewhere. Bo shifted her weight back and forth on her feet. She was uncomfortable with having to tell Lauren like this, but it needed to be done. "I'm technically substitute teaching today," she mumbled, though it was definitely loud enough for Lauren to hear.

"Come again?"

"I said I'm substitu—"

"I heard you," Lauren cut her off. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"I only found out yesterday, and with everything that happened… I just forgot…" Bo reached forward placing her hand on Lauren's arm, which was held firmly at her side. "I'm sorry. I only just remembered this morning, and I tried to tell you as soon as I did."

Bo understood how her actions might have upset Lauren. It wasn't merely the fact that she was substituting; her wife wouldn't have had a problem with that. But Lauren felt left out of the loop of communication yet again, and it didn't help that the incident in question happened at her workplace. It would have been like Lauren showing up to work at the precinct without telling Bo; she would have been happy to see her, but she still would have been upset that her wife didn't tell her.

"Why?" Lauren asked. Her expression was impassive, and Bo just wished she could read an emotion on her face — _any_ of them would do, even anger.

"It's for a case. The subject of my investigation is a student here."

Lauren shook her head at her explanation. "Bo, you can't go invading the privacy of minors here."

"She's not a minor."

Lauren frowned for a moment, obviously thinking about something. "Be careful, Bo. I don't want anyone to have a reason to cause problems for you — for us. I know they may not all look like it, but a lot of these kids are quite clever and could make your life a living hell if you gave them a reason to like that. Giving them difficult tests will get you a bad reputation, but prying in places that aren't really any of your business could earn you much worse than that, if not from the kids themselves then from their parents."

"I'll keep that in mind," Bo said, giving Lauren's arm one last gentle squeeze before letting her hand slowly drift down its length to her fingers. Her voice grew quieter, and she said: "So, did you want to meet up for lunch later? You know, since we're both here and everything?"

Lauren chuckled. "Are you asking me on a date?"

Bo grinned, finally letting some of the pent up tension ease from her shoulders. "Maybe. It's been a while, huh?"

"It has," Lauren nodded in agreement.

"I'll meet you after next period?"

"The teacher's lounge is down the hall from my classroom." Lauren gave her one last look before leaning in to give her a small peck on the cheek. "I'll see you in an hour and a half."

Bo smiled widely as Lauren disappeared down the hallway. She let her eyes drop down to admire the view below — her wife certainly did know how to rock a pair of pants. Almost as if sensing her thoughts, Lauren turned her head over her shoulder to give Bo a knowing look before disappearing around the corner. A blush ran up Bo's cheeks at having been caught staring. She went to head to her own classroom, but was met by a crowd of students, who had apparently gathered around her and Lauren at some point. They were all gawking at her, completely oblivious to the stern look Bo was giving them.

_Freshmen_, Bo thought. _Don't they have classes to be going to? _Bo rolled her eyes at them.

"If any of you stares for much longer, I'm going to start charging you admission. Now scram." They all looked quickly away and scattered like a crowd of frightened sheep, scurrying away as fast as they could to get to their next class.

The brunette found her classroom without complication. She would be taking over for Mr. Ostreich today, who apparently had a rather unpleasant case of shingles. His choice of room decor was odd; there were posters all over the walls in a language that Bo didn't understand. Based on the characters, she thought it might have been Russian, but she wasn't sure. The last few minutes before the bell she spent watching the students file into the room. Most of them didn't pay her any notice; they were too engrossed in their own conversations. The noise in the room matched the level out in the hallway before the bell rang to signal the start of class. The steady hum of discussion quickly died down to a few remaining whispers, and Bo stood up to write her name on the board in large, loopy letters before greeting her class.

"Good morning," she said to the quiet room. "As you can probably see, Mr. Ostreich isn't going to be here today. My name is Mrs. Dennis, and I'm going to be your substitute." There were a couple of whistles from the back of the room which Bo successfully ignored.

A deep voice sounded from the back of the room from about the same location as where the whistles were coming from. "Are you and Mrs. Lewis, like _together_?" he asked. Bo glanced up to find the voice, and recognized who it belonged to instantly. It was Bruce Conley, one of Kenzi's friends. His red high school football jersey was stretched tightly across his chest, and Bo wondered if it was even possible for him to wear a shirt that didn't show his muscles off in some way. "Everyone saw you two macking on each other in the hallway a second ago."

"She's my wife," Bo answered. "You may call me by my legal name, Mrs. Lewis-Dennis, if it suits you."

The boy sitting next to Bruce chimed in: "You and Mrs. Lewis? That's kind of hot." He ogled Bo openly, making her uncomfortable under his gaze. It felt so intrinsically wrong to have a seventeen year old scrutinize her in such a way, even more so than it would have been if he were older. "I definitely wouldn't mind watching you two getting down."

The rest of the class broke into a fit of giggles at the lewd remark, and Bo slammed her palms on her desk from where she was standing behind it. "That's enough!" her voice raised dangerously, cutting off the snickering. The room grew more silent than it had been since the bell rang. "There will be no more discussion of my personal life — Mrs. Lewis or otherwise. The next person to bring it up will be getting a detention. Is that understood?" Her tone was dead serious, and not a single person dared to speak out of turn again.

Now that the class was more or less under Bo's control, she performed the perfunctory roll call. To her surprise, she saw the name _Kenzi Malikov_ on the class roster. Her eyes darted up to quickly scan the classroom; there was only one empty seat left on Bruce's other side. That must have been Kenzi's usual spot, she realized. A sinking feeling settled in her stomach as she realized the purpose of today's actions were now probably wasted. It would be difficult to gather intel on the girl when she wasn't even here. She marked Kenzi down as the only absence.

"Now, based on your lesson plans I see that you were assigned to finish the epilogue of _Crime and Punishment_ last week. So we'll begin by discussing—"

The classroom door flung open, interrupting Bo. "Hola bitches!" a chipper voice sounded out from the entrance.

Bo's eyes snapped immediately to the intruder, and noticed with a growing excitement that it was Kenzi. The teenager waved enthusiastically to the class, breaking the spell of silence Bo had over them. The whispers started to break out again at her arrival.

"Language please," Bo chided. "You're late," she added unnecessarily.

"I have an excuse." She handed the substitute a folded piece of paper. Bo unfolded the signed slip from the principal's office, rolling her eyes as she read the excuse Kenzi provided: _I had transient global amnesia and I couldn't remember that I was supposed to be at school this morning_.

There wasn't much Bo could do about the obvious farce, especially since the slip had been signed by someone in the school's administration. Her lips tightened into a straight line. She said: "Please, go and take your seat."

"Yes, ma'am." Kenzi gave her a mock salute before waltzing off toward the back of the class. Bo watched her carefully.

"As I was saying," Bo continued, "I'm told that you've just finished _Crime and Punishment_ by Dostoevsky last week. We are going to have a discussion on what you've learned from your reading. Would anyone like to start by telling us what they thought about the epilogue?" The question was met with complete silence. "Ms. Malikov, perhaps since you came in late you could start off the discussion. Have you done the reading?"

Kenzi scoffed. "Puh-lease. My babushka used to read it to me all the time back when I was in middle school."

"Then could you share your thoughts with the class?"

"Well _class_," Kenzi placed a sarcastic emphasis on the word, "Raskolinov was a pretty smart cookie. Killed two women in their own homes and only served eight years for it. He's more efficient than most of the peeps locked up today, that's for sure."

"The theme of the epilogue was redemption," Bo said. "Raskolinov was repentant and knew that in his right mind he wasn't capable of those things. Don't you think that Raskolinov was truly sorry for what he did?"

"Hell no."

"Kenzi, I'm going to have to ask you to —"

"People never really think they're capable of doing bad things," she continued, interrupting Bo. "But put anyone in the right situation, and they'll do something terrible. For some people, their vice is money, and in others, it's fear. For some people, it's desperation. For Raskolinov, it was his arrogance." She paused, and Bo was actually impressed by the thought she'd put into her response. Initially, Bo assumed she was going to make some facetious comment, but she was pleasantly surprised. But then she opened her mouth again. "Sad thing is, he could have gotten away with it if he actually located his balls and stopped fainting every time someone started talking about the murders. Dude needed to nut up and stop being such a pussy."

The entire class giggled at the girl's statement. Kenzi's little self-satisfied smirk was aggravating, almost as if she were goading Bo into another response. Bo was determined not to prolong the exchange any longer. Instead, she reached for the pad of pink slips on her desk.

"Detention, Ms. Malikov," Bo said.

The smirk disappeared from Kenzi's face. "What? Why?"

"For disrupting class."

"You can't give detentions — you're the substitute!"

It was Bo's turn to smirk now. "I think you'll find that I can. Mr. Ostreich will be out for at least the rest of the week, and there's always the possibility that I will be your substitute again tomorrow." The school had offered Bo the job for rest of the week, though she hadn't committed to it yet. At the rate things were going she'd probably _have_ to stay just to get more information.

Bo scribbled Kenzi's name across the carbon copy paper and walked it over to Kenzi's desk, giving the original for Kenzi to take and keeping the yellow copy for herself. Bo could feel the eyes on her as she walked back to the front of the room, but this time, nobody said anything.

"Since we've been unable to have a discussion, for the last hour of the period, you'll be writing an essay," Bo said, much to the dismay of the class. The grumbling was audible even from behind the teacher's desk. "I want you to pick a theme or two from the story, and explain how Dostoyevsky portrays it in the book. Be sure to give specific examples from your reading to let me know you've actually done it."

There was a rustling of papers as Bo signaled for the class to begin, and it gave her the opportunity to simply watch her students. Kenzi occasionally looked up to give her a death glare, but most of them at least appeared to be working on the assignment. The peace and quiet was a welcome change. Too soon, the bell rang to signal the end of the class, and the spell of silence was broken again.

One by one, the students filed by Bo's desk to drop off their essays and leave for lunch. A particular piece of paper caught Bo's eye as it was being handed in. She reached into the pile, picking it out. There were little pictures of penises drawn all over the page. Bo looked up to see who had placed it on the pile, but by that point, whoever had done it had disappeared already. She crumpled up the obnoxious drawing, throwing it into the recycle bin with more force than was actually necessary.

Bo grabbed her purse and locked up the classroom behind her, headed determinedly toward the teacher's lounge. She needed to calm down, and the only way to do that at the moment was if she got to Lauren — and soon.

* * *

Acids and bases weren't difficult concepts to grasp. At least, they never were for Lauren when she was in school. Understanding the principles behind pH, dissociation, and buffers were topics that she learned easily when she was a student. Some of her kids didn't put much effort into understanding, but there were also some that gave a great deal of effort and never were quite successful with it.

Pietra was one of them. She'd stayed behind in class yet again today asking Mrs. Lewis to help her figure out where she messed up in her calculation of the equivalence point during their titration experiment earlier.

"Pietra, you need to calculate the moles of base that you added — not the volume. That way you can use the Henderson-Hasselbalch equation to find your pKa," Lauren instructed, spotting where the girl's work had gone awry instantly. "Do you remember what your pKa tells you?"

Lauren watched as Pietra's face scrunched up in thought. Her head tilted to the side, and her auburn curls bounced with the movement. She was definitely putting a lot of thought into it, Lauren could tell — she just hoped that her student was able to retain a little bit of the lesson today. Unfortunately, that wasn't the case.

"When the solution is neutral?" Pietra offered.

"It's when the concentration of the acid and its conjugate base are equal," Lauren corrected her.

Pietra's face fell at yet another incorrect answer. She was someone who regularly stayed after class for extra help with Lauren. Chemistry wasn't her strong point, Lauren realized early on, but her deficiencies weren't from lack of effort.

"I'm totally useless," Pietra lamented.

"You're not useless, Pietra."

"No offense, but I didn't even want to take AP chemistry. My dad made me take it because he wants me to apply to Princeton next year, and he thinks that another AP class is going to look good on my application."

Lauren felt for her. She'd heard from numerous other teachers that Pietra was a model student. The only class she seemed to struggle in was hers, and that made Lauren feel a bit inadequate herself. If Pietra could succeed in every other class, perhaps it wasn't her student who had the problem. Maybe Lauren's teaching style wasn't a good match. She made a mental note to try a different tack with her during their next tutorial session. As it was, Lauren had to get going before she was late meeting Bo.

Apparently, Pietra's locker was on the way to the teacher's lounge because she followed Lauren out of the classroom excitedly chatting about some upcoming play she was going to be in for the school drama club. Lauren was only half listening though. She saw Bo pacing impatiently outside the teacher's lounge and all of a sudden Pietra's eager speech became mere background noise. Lauren somehow managed to give enough polite oohs and aahs to keep Pietra from noticing, but in reality, all her focus on Bo and her short skirt. Pietra noticed that her teacher was no longer listening and looked up to see the source of her diverted attention.

"Hi, Bo," Lauren greeted. Bo spun around quickly, and the troubled look on her face disappeared the moment her eyes found Lauren's.

"Hey," Bo breathed out. Her furrowed brow relaxed, and the corners of her lips widened into a smile. "You ready?"

Pietra glanced between the two of them curiously. She'd never seen Bo before, but she made the logical assumption that she and Mrs. Lewis were personally close in some way.

"Hi, I'm Pietra," the girl blurted, sticking out the hand that wasn't busy clutching her books toward Bo.

To her credit, Bo managed to keep her expression only mildly surprised, and she moved her gaze from her wife to the student hovering next to her. Bo's eyebrows raised as the took in the frilly pink dress and bow she was wearing, though she could already tell that the outfit fit her personality perfectly.

"Hi Pietra. My name is Bo." She took the girl's outstretched hand and gave it a friendly shake.

"Are you two — you know — ?" Pietra wasn't articulating her words clearly, and she glanced at Lauren for an answer for her poorly asked question.

Lauren knew the general idea she was getting at so she supplied the answer for her. "Bo is my wife. We've been together seven years." Pietra's eyes lit up at the news, and she looked back and forth between them again enthusiastically. Lauren couldn't help her resulting smile.

Pietra practically squealed with delight, and Lauren had no doubt that if she had two free hands, she would have clapped them both together as well.

"Oh, that's just amazing!" she gushed. "Look at you both — you two are just so adorable. For what it's worth, I think you make a great couple."

"Thank you, Pietra," Lauren said, keeping her even tone. "Bo and I are going to get some lunch; is there anything else you needed?" She secretly hoped the girl said no, not because she didn't enjoy her being around, but because she and Bo had already made plans that superseded Pietra's hyperactive rants.

"Oh no, you two enjoy yourselves," she said happily. "I'll see you at tutoring tomorrow, Mrs. Lewis," she said before scurrying off toward her locker down the hall with a particular skip in her step. Bo moved from her place to come stand by Lauren's side, where she too also watched the student happily saunter away.

"How come you get all the good students, and I get a whole litter of Satan spawns?" Bo asked, watching Pietra disappear into the crowd of students heading toward the cafeteria.

"I take it that teaching high schoolers isn't exactly your calling in life?" Lauren smirked at Bo, walking past her and pushing open the door to the lounge and leading Bo inside.

Bo shook her head. "Huh. You could say that. The last hour and a half has made me think twice about us even having kids."

Lauren was about to respond, but someone else in the room overheard the last part of the conversation and decided to interject: "Don't do it. It's absolute murder. Save your sanity while you still can." Lauren rolled her eyes, laughing at her colleague's joking advice.

She led Bo to the modest lunch spread that was arranged at the side of the lounge and motioned for her to start preparing herself a plate. It was something new the school did on Tuesdays and Thursdays; it was fortunate for Bo, who otherwise would have had to brave the school cafeteria if she wanted a full meal for herself. Lauren would have been happy to share with her, but she usually didn't have as big an appetite as Bo did. Splitting a Lauren-sized meal between the two of them definitely would have left Bo's stomach growling throughout the rest of the afternoon. The school mostly provided sandwich platters, like today, but on rare occasions they ventured out and ordered Thai or Mexican food.

Lauren led Bo to one of the tiny tables, and they both sat down together. Just like at home, Bo wasted no time digging into her food.

"So, what happened that's made you consider swearing off children for good?" Lauren asked.

"Oh my god, it was 'orrible!" Bo said through a mouthful of food. She chewed and swallowed quickly before continuing. "They wouldn't stop cutting up and making inappropriate comments, and then when I tried to have a discussion on the book they finished last week, some girl completely derailed everything. After that, I got frustrated and just made them write an essay instead, but some kid didn't even write anything — they just drew a bunch of dicks all over the paper."

"Ryan Lambert," Lauren nodded in understanding.

"Huh?"

"I'd bet money that it was Ryan Lambert. He was in my chemistry class last year, and he used to do the same thing on all his tests if he didn't know the answer to a question. I eventually had to have a meeting with his parents about it… Sounds like the message might not have stuck very well."

Bo recognized the name as belonging to the boy that had openly ogled her in class. She shook her head and declared, "Boys are gross."

"Well, with high school boys that comes with the territory for a little while — a hazard of the job, I'm afraid," Lauren explained. "Most of the kids here aren't so intentionally provocative. There are a few groups that can be problematic, especially for someone that doesn't have a lot of experience. Those kids typically band together though, so if you get one of them in your class, you typically get _all _the rest of them as well… and that's difficult."

Bo frowned. "Yep. Pretty sure I got all of them."

"Ryan Lambert, Kenzi Malikov, and Bruce Conley?" Lauren asked, and Bo nodded. "If it's any consolation, just be glad that their other friend Vex decided to finally drop out this year. He finally gave up after failing his senior year for the fifth time. Why the district let him stay that long in the first place is a mystery to me…"

Bo's ears perked up at the mention of those familiar names. She had so many questions: who the others were they hung out with at school, what extra-curriculars they did… But none of those things she could ask without arousing any suspicion on Lauren's part. The blonde was too smart and perceptive for that. Bo would have to find out more by her own efforts.

Lauren continued: "Thankfully, not all of the students here are that difficult. Most of them are actually quite pleasant." She placed her hand on top of Bo's in a supportive gesture. "You'll do fine, I'm sure of it."

Bo glanced at the way Lauren's hand fit perfectly over her own. She wished she had the level of confidence that her wife seemed to have in her own abilities, but she didn't — she rarely did. All Bo could hope for was that Lauren was right.

* * *

There was a thirty minute dead time after the last period bell before detention started. For the students, it was designed to give them an opportunity to speak to any teachers they needed to and to complete their own personal errands before having to sit cooped up in another classroom for an hour. For Lauren, it was an opportunity to grade her tests in peace and quiet (at least until the students arrived). It always took a few minutes for her to get them hushed and situated with their assignments, and the brief disruption threw off Lauren's routine. She was so focused that she barely even registered when the school secretary came to visit her room.

"Looks like there's only one customer today, Mrs. Lewis," the secretary said in a cheery tone. The older woman had been working at the school for twenty-five years, and everyday Lauren stayed to run detention, she heard the same voice. She didn't even need to see her to recognize the woman.

"Sounds good. Thank you, Martha." Lauren held her free hand out to grab the folder from her, not sparing one look from the test she was grading. Lauren offered her a polite, automatic salutation, and she was left alone again to tend to her grading.

Her advanced chemistry class had just finished their block on kinetics, and Lauren was pleased with how well most of them performed on the exam — at least, out of the ones she'd graded thus far. There were the usual stragglers, Pietra, for instance, but Lauren was formulating a different plan for her tutoring session tomorrow that she hoped would remedy that situation. All in all, the grading was putting Lauren in a pleasant mood. It appeared as if the afternoon would not be too bad.

Or at least, Lauren felt that way until about fifteen minutes later. That's when the classroom door slammed open, pounding against the wall. The sudden loud noise caused Lauren to drop her grading pen and jump in her seat.

"Sup, Mrs. Lewis," Kenzi said. She strutted in the room and threw her worn out messenger bag down at her usual spot.

Kenzi was one the regulars in detention, and she had been every year she'd attended this school. So Lauren had known of her since she was a freshman, and by the time she'd taken her class as a junior, Lauren was well aware of how she typically behaved in class. So Lauren knew the best way to handle Kenzi was to not betray that anything the girl did bothered her. She'd never once let her temper get the best of her when Kenzi was around.

Lauren forced her face into a emotionless mask. "Ms. Malikov, I see that you're back again. May I see your detention slip, please?" Lauren held her hand out, beckoning for the small piece of paper. Kenzi would occasionally push other teachers' buttons by making them come get the slip themselves, but Lauren established early on that she didn't operate like that.

Kenzi let out a giant huff of air, and crawled from her seat, slowly trudging to the front to hand Lauren the pink piece of paper.

"And who is it that gave you detention today?" Lauren asked. "I hope it's not Mrs. Halima again already." She grasped the proffered detention slip easily between her index and middle finger, flipping it around to read the name of the issuing teacher. It wasn't Mrs. Halima.

The big loopy _B_ and _D_, followed by a bunch of other scribbly nonsense? It was Bo. Lauren would have recognized that signature anywhere.

"Mr. Ostreich's _awesome_ new substitute," Kenzi said, narrowing her eyes at Lauren and apparently trying to gauge her response. Lauren wasn't about to give her the satisfaction of a retaliation.

"It says here that you were disrupting class."

"Which is total horse shit."

"Kenzi, watch your language, or I'll make sure you have another detention tomorrow." The girl grew silent at Lauren's threat, though she continued glaring at her. "Now if you'll please take a seat. You know the rules by now. You may read or work on homework, but there are to be no cell phones… Is that understood?"

Kenzi grumbled a reply, which Lauren could only assume was an affirmative. She skulked back to her desk and buried her head in her arms on top of her desk. Apparently Kenzi was opting to spend the entire hour sleeping, which didn't bother Lauren at all as long as she stayed quiet. She planned on finishing her test grading at some point during the next hour, and as long as Kenzi didn't require constant redirection, Lauren believed she could get it done.

Fifty-five minutes flew by without her even realizing it, and Lauren was finishing her last test when her phone screen lit up from atop her desk. A picture of her wife making a goofy face flashed across the screen along with her message: _Is there anything in particular you want for dinner? It's my treat tonight. Xoxo._ The message brought an unconscious smile to Lauren's face.

Bo was still feeling guilty, she realized. Her wife might _occasionally_ make dinner one night (which was a rare enough occurrence), but doing it two consecutive nights was a complete anomaly — and Lauren knew it. Bo was still trying to compensate by doing extra things that Lauren usually did, like making them both dinner. It was sweet, without a doubt, but Lauren didn't need her do that; she wasn't _mad_ at Bo.

With the exception of last week, Bo had always been attentive to everything Lauren asked of her. When her mom had an appointment, and Lauren was unable to take her because of work, Bo stepped in to take care of it. Bo fixed things around the house whenever they broke (or at least tried to). It wasn't until missing Janine's appointment that Bo ever truly failed to follow through on something Lauren expected of her. Her wife didn't have a habit of doing that, and she understood that Bo was under a considerable amount of pressure with her own job.

Lauren was more frustrated at the distance that had accumulated between them over the past couple of years, and no set number of dinners would fix that. Part of it was the constant stress of their lives and the fact that both of them sacrificed so many of their own personal goals in order to meet their monthly financial requirements. But their issues went deeper, Lauren knew. They'd become stagnant, and in handling the stressors in their lives, they'd let their relationship become merely routine. With all the obstacles she and Bo would have to overcome in the coming months, it was an inopportune time to reconnect, but it was also completely necessary. Otherwise, as much as it pained Lauren to even entertain the idea, she didn't think that she and Bo would make it through the ordeal intact.

Lauren scribbled the exam score on the front page of the test before placing it in the pile with the rest of them. Overall, Lauren was pleased with her class's performance. The pleasure was fleeting though; as soon as she looked up, she saw that Kenzi had her phone pulled out on her desk, and she was busy typing away at the screen.

"Kenzi, please put your phone away," Lauren instructed.

Her head popped up at Lauren's words, the first ones uttered in the room for nearly an hour. "Why? You were just using yours a second ago," she retorted.

"I'm the teacher, you're the student, and you're in detention."

"Why don't you text _Mrs. Dennis_ back and just let me out of here already?"

"Excuse me?"

"You heard me," Kenzi said, setting her phone on her desk with a clunk. "You were just sitting there smiling like an idiot — it doesn't take a brain surgeon to figure out who you were talking to. The whole school's been talking about your little lady friend all day."

"I hardly find it plausible that the entire school has suddenly taken a vested interest in my personal life."

Kenzi shook her head and smirked at Lauren. "Not you, hotpants. The sexy new substitute." She waited to see if Lauren would react, and when she didn't Kenzi pressed on. "She's all the boys have been talking about today. They definitely appreciate her umm…" Kenzi paused, scratching her chin as if she were thinking, "her assets." Lauren's jaw clenched as she tried to maintain her composure, but Kenzi was dangerously close to crossing a line that even the calm and collected Mrs. Lewis couldn't handle.

"In fact," Kenzi continued, "you should have heard some of the stuff the football players were saying about her. Bruce was telling me that in the locker room, the guys all had a bet going to see who could cop a feel on her first —"

With that last little addition, Lauren snapped. She couldn't even describe her logical thought process anymore. All she knew was that her vision suddenly became tinged with red, and there was a ringing in her ears that she'd never heard before. Without even consciously thinking about it, she stood bolt upright from her desk and stormed over toward Kenzi with pure fire in her eyes. The young girl must have realized that she crossed a line because she sat back in her chair, putting as much distance between herself and her incensed teacher as humanly possible.

"That's enough!" Lauren slammed her hands on the edges of Kenzi's desk and pulled it away from her roughly. It was an immensely satisfying action, and it left Kenzi sitting awkwardly with no desk in front of her. The furniture that had been serving as a buffer between them was gone, and Kenzi looked oddly vulnerable like this.

Lauren saw her light blue eyes dart down to the ground in panic. Naturally, Lauren followed to where she was looking, and what she saw confused her immensely. Kenzi's bag had tipped over during the incident, and a large collection of twenty dollar bills had spilled from the pockets. There must have been at least a thousand dollars on the floor by Lauren's estimate. When Kenzi reached down to pick up her bag and shove the cash back inside, Lauren thought she saw even more. The young girl looked back up again, and there was actual worry in her eyes for the first time.

"Birthday money," Kenzi said quietly with a tremor in her voice. "At least rich, deadbeat dads are good for something, right?"

Lauren glowered at her. "Get out," she hissed.

Kenzi scrambled to her feet, and after she grabbed her bag and cell phone, she practically ran out the door.

The lack of Kenzi's presence didn't do anything to ease the anger and hurt that still sat stewing in Lauren's stomach. What the girl said bothered her on a level that went far beyond personal. She'd poked all of Lauren's sorest places by belittling her relationship with Bo and flinging at her the locker room chatter of a bunch of high school boys. If that's what Kenzi had been aiming for with her comment, then she was successful — not that it helped assuage Lauren's emotions at all. There was only one thing that would help the way she was feeling now.

Lauren needed to get home. She grabbed her belongings with a haste similar to Kenzi's but with a purpose that was entirely different.

It was pure desperation.

* * *

Bo never got a message back from Lauren about what she wanted for dinner, so she opted for one of her tried and true dishes: spaghetti and meatballs. Lauren always complimented her on it in the past, so she knew that her wife liked it, at least. Bo found cooking fun when she knew what she was doing. This was one meal she could make in her sleep, so she allowed herself to relax a bit and just enjoy cooking for once. The rest of the day for Bo, as Lauren predicted, hadn't been nearly as bad as it was during her first class, and at times, Bo even found that she enjoyed herself.

She was already far more comfortable now that she'd changed out of her skirt, blazer and heels. The jeans she'd replaced them with were far closer to her usual attire, and they were perfect for the kitchen, where despite wearing Lauren's apron, she was still liable to spill food all over herself. Bo pushed the meatballs on the stove around gently; they were now perfectly browned, and she picked up her thickly sliced tomatoes to begin adding them to the pan. They sizzled delightfully, and the pasta was busy boiling on the adjacent stove pot.

Bo's attention was diverted when she heard the sound of the front door opening.

"Hey honey, I didn't know what you wanted so I just started on spaghetti. Is that okay?" Bo called out loudly toward the entranceway, mixing in the sauce with the tomatoes and meatballs. There was no response. "Lauren?"

After hearing no reply for the second time, Bo glanced up over the counter top into the living room. Lauren was there, but she had a peculiar look in her eye that Bo couldn't quite place, though it seemed familiar. She was approaching quickly, so Bo paused with her stirring movements.

"Lo, is everything okay? Is something wro—"

The words were cut off as Lauren crushed her lips against Bo's. Initially, Bo was too shocked to even respond. Several seconds later, after Bo finally convinced herself that what happened _wasn't_ all a hallucination, she started to kiss Lauren back. The eventual response only made Lauren more insistent, and Bo felt her wife grip her hips hard, pushing her backward toward the sink. Even if Bo wanted to resist the movement, she physically wouldn't have been able to. It had been ages since Lauren was this aggressive with her, and it turned Bo on so much that she didn't even the register the pain of her lower back striking the far counter.

The sudden onslaught didn't end there, however. Lauren's lips never once paused for a break. When she nipped at Bo's bottom lip roughly, Bo felt like the room started spinning, but when Lauren thrust her tongue into Bo's mouth, it felt like the floor was about to fall out from beneath her. Bo broke them apart with something akin to awe in her eyes, not even realizing that she still had the sauce-covered ladle in her hands. She couldn't move too far away though; Lauren still had Bo's hips pinned against the solid surface and continued to apply pressure in places that made her weak in the thighs.

"Don't you want dinner?" Bo gasped. The pasta wasn't quite done yet, but it certainly would be in just a couple of minutes.

Lauren shook her head. "Fuck dinner. I want you."

Bo was fairly certain her heart might have actually stopped beating for a brief moment after she heard Lauren's words. But as soon as they fell from Lauren's lips, which were already slightly swollen from their kissing, Bo finally recognized the look she had in her eyes when she came in the house today. It was something Bo hadn't seen it in a long, long time. It was _her_ Lauren, the Lauren she'd first married seven years ago, back when there used to be no barriers between them. The ladle dropped from Bo's hands, probably splattering them both with tomato sauce, and she wound her arms tightly around her wife's neck pulling their bodies tightly together.

Lauren buried her face into the side of Bo's neck and began to press open mouthed kisses against the delicate skin just above her pulse point. The sensation made Bo inhale sharply.

"God, Lauren," Bo hissed.

Lauren placed several more lingering kisses along her neck, making her way back up her jawline and to her mouth again. Bo closed her eyes, expecting Lauren to pick up right where they left off a moment ago. The contact she was expecting on her lips never came, however. Bo opened her eyes, giving Lauren a confused look.

"Let's go," Lauren said, giving Bo's hips a firm squeeze. Her eyes glinted dangerously, and the look made Bo's throat suddenly go dry.

"Are you sure? You can tell me what's going on, I—"

"Bo… Please stop talking," Lauren cut her off abruptly.

Bo didn't need to be told twice.

This situation was everything she'd been hoping for, and the most beautiful thing about it was that _Lauren_ had been the one to make the first move. It had been three whole weeks since they'd been together like this; Bo could remember the days when three _hours_ seemed like an eternity to them both. And recently, most times when it did happen between them Bo had to instigate it herself. Today though, Bo didn't need to wear her barely there teddy around the house in hopes that Lauren would notice her. Like it used to be earlier, Lauren was just as insatiable as Bo, and the brunette wasn't about to waste another second of this precious moment.

Bo's eyes told Lauren everything that she needed to know. The blonde finally released the pressure on her body, pulling her away from the edge of the counter top roughly and towards the bedroom in the back. Bo hardly paid attention to anything else while they stripped themselves of their clothes on the way there. She nearly tripped on the apron as she pulled it off and cast it aside, and though Lauren's pants had come off easily, she didn't seem to be having much luck with the tiny little buttons on her shirt. They were only half undressed by the time they reached the bedroom.

That wasn't going to be quite good enough.

Bo hurriedly pushed her jeans down, quickly stepping out of them and kicking across the room before moving to help Lauren with her stubborn shirt. The buttons really were tiny, Bo realized, and her frantic hands had little patience for them — not when they were standing in the way of what she wanted and was so close to getting. Bo grabbed the top edges of Lauren's shirt in her fists and pulled them apart hard, causing the entire row of buttons to pop off the seams. If Lauren minded her ruined shirt, she didn't show it. She shrugged out of it quickly and pulled Bo into her yet again. This time, their skin met, and the sensation jolted through them both like their bodies were live wires. In a sense they were, Bo supposed.

Lauren's nails dug hard into Bo's back the longer they stood there with their lips together. She needed more, Bo realized, and as much as she relished the little pinpoints of pain just beneath her shoulder blades, she knew that they needed to to move to the bed… and quickly. Thankfully, Lauren seemed to have the same idea. The blonde directed them both to the edge of the bed where she pushed Bo backwards roughly.

The air rushed out of Bo's chest as she impacted the mattress, and she didn't even have a chance to take another breath before Lauren climbed on top of her and moved them both towards the top of the bed. She was moving things along quickly, not sparing any time for the foreplay that she and Bo normally shared together. Bo honestly didn't mind; she was more than ready to go right now anyways. She shrugged out of her own bra while Lauren took care of her own, then lifted her hips up to let Lauren pull off her underwear. Bo wrapped her legs around Lauren's waist eagerly while the blonde situated herself above her. She let her hands drift to Lauren's breasts, and closed her eyes for several moments at the feel of the soft flesh beneath her palms.

"I love you," Lauren said softly. It was a soft voice, completely at odds with frantic exchange that just happened between them.

Bo's eyes fluttered open again, glancing up to meet her wife's light brown ones. "I love you too." She bit her bottom lip and moved her hand from Lauren's chest to cup up to the side of her face. The blonde leaned into the gentle contact while Bo stroked her cheek with her thumb. "I've missed this — I've missed us."

"Me too."

"Can we…" Bo frowned, forming little crinkles in her forehead, "… try and fix whatever _this_ is?"

Bo didn't need to explain any further as to what she meant. Lauren was occasionally aloof when she was focused on work or complicated issues with her mother, but even she must have noticed the growing chasm between them lately. It had lingered far too long to simply be written off as purely coincidence.

"I think we need to," Lauren said. Her expression became pained for a moment, and her voice suddenly became thicker with emotion. "Bo, I'm worried," she confessed, breaking on the last syllable. "This is just all too much, and as much as I try to come up with way to make it all work, I just can't think of anything that will. I would completely understand if you wanted to get out from underneath all this."

Bo shook her head and lifted up her other hand to grasp the sides of the Lauren's face before pulling her face down to her own. She tried to put every ounce of emotion in her body behind the kiss, letting their lips stay pressed together for several moments. Bo tried to memorize the exact texture of Lauren's lips, and didn't allow them to break apart until she'd done just that.

"I don't want to get out," Bo said with absolute conviction. "I want to be with _you_. Lauren look at me, please?" The blonde's eyes slowly opened to meet Bo's again. "You don't have to try and face everything alone. I'm here. We'll get through this — together, okay? I promised you that seven years ago, and I still mean it."

Lauren nodded, and her eyes started to get glassy.

"Good," Bo said, and she allowed a grin to grace her lips again. "Now if I recall, I believe we were kind of in the middle of something. You know, it's not healthy to leave a girl hanging like that, Lo."

Thankfully, Lauren caught onto Bo's drift, and she responded by pressing her hips forward into Bo's center. The pressure was a welcome sensation, but it was nowhere near enough to alleviate the ache that Bo had built up between her legs. She gripped Lauren's body tighter by pulling her in with her calves, and it still wasn't able to give Bo the friction she desired. More than anything else, it was simply a tease of what was to come.

"Lauren, please…" Bo wasn't sure how much longer she could endure before she had to flip them both over and take control herself.

Lauren seemed to sense Bo's struggle, and decided to end her torment. Her fingers found Bo's most sensitive places easily, and the sensation was so strong at the first touch that Bo nearly cried out from the pleasure of it. Lauren worked up to a brisk, steady pace quickly, thrusting her body and her hand expertly against Bo, who could only grip against Lauren's body tighter with her legs in response.

Bo was completely lost to the experience, and Lauren watched in awe as she became completely undone beneath her. After several moments, she could sense that Bo was nearing her climax, so she pushed her pace a bit more, trying to help her wife meet the inevitable outcome. When she started to feel Bo clenching around her thrusting hand, Lauren found herself pulled down again in a searing kiss, much to her own surprise. As soon as their lips touched, Lauren felt the moan from Bo's orgasm against her own mouth. The brunette pulled Lauren even more tightly against herself using her legs, and the way their entire bodies were connected almost made Lauren climax herself. They stayed connected like that for a minute while Bo rode out her pleasure. Neither one of them wanted to move, though Lauren wasn't entirely sure she could have moved if she wanted to anyway.

Slowly Bo's lips began to ease their pressure on Lauren's, and her legs began to slacken around the blonde's waist as she came back down from her high. Lauren broke their long kiss apart, leaning back to meet Bo's dark brown eyes. Her face was flushed, but to Lauren, she'd never looked quite so stunning. Lauren's eyes drifted closed as Bo reached up to brush several long tendrils of hair from her face.

"I think it's my turn now," Bo smirked. Lauren was about to ask what she meant, but before she could get the words out, Bo already flipped them both over so that Lauren was now on her back.

In one steady transition, Bo began to plant kisses down Lauren's slender neck, down her chest, across her stomach, down to her inner thighs. Lauren was already gasping at the attention paid to the sensitive area, and Bo didn't have to work much harder before Lauren came as well.

Together, they relieved the days of their honeymoon that night. The spaghetti Bo left abandoned on the stove was a complete, unmitigated disaster, but neither one of them cared all that much. When they grew hungry a couple of hours later, they simply ordered dinner in. Bo at least had the decency to throw on a long jacket instead of answering the door stark naked. They ate at intervals whenever they felt like it in between their lovemaking sessions, and there was hardly a single moment when their bodies weren't in contact with each other.

Surprisingly, Lauren didn't even bother moving the take-out containers into the kitchen to throw away. She'd simply left them on the nightstand and curled into Bo's body on the bed. Bo idly ran her hands through Lauren's hair, watching as her wife slept with her head curled into Bo's chest. This felt right, more right than anything felt between them in a long time. Bo smiled, reaching over the styrofoam containers to set the alarm and turn off the lamp at the side of their bed.

_Maybe, just maybe we could actually do this, _Bo thought. She pulled the covers up around the two of them and smiled. Things were definitely looking up.


	4. Supply and Demand

Bo only vaguely registered the shaking on her shoulders. She was warm, happy, and peaceful, and she didn't want to disturb that yet. She had the most amazing dream last night; Bo wanted to hold onto those beautiful images just a tad longer.

"Bo, honey… It's time to get up," Lauren nudged her again.

At the gentle but insistent gesture, Bo finally eased her eyes open. The sunlight shining through the sheer curtains fell brightly on her wife's face above her, where she sat propped up on her elbow. Much to Bo's delight, she was completely naked.

"You need to get up, you're going to be late."

Bo glanced quickly over at the alarm clock on the nightstand, noticing the styrofoam containers next to it. _Apparently it wasn't a dream after all_, Bo realized with a smile. She gazed back at Lauren, who gave Bo a confused look.

"I thought I had imagined everything for a second," Bo explained.

"I see." Lauren licked her lips, and it made Bo's heart rate quicken. "I can guarantee you with one hundred percent certainty that it did actually happen."

"Oh really now?" Bo pushed herself up from the bed and closer to her wife. "And just how might that be?" She gave Lauren a mischievous look.

"Umm… Be sure to look in the mirror thoroughly before you leave," she said with a blush, "and you might not want to wear a low cut shirt today."

Bo's jaw dropped. "Did you really…" She left her mouth hanging open, unable to finish the sentence.

"Sorry," Lauren shrugged.

"Oh my god, I don't think you've left a hickey on me since…" Bo paused. She honestly couldn't recall the exact time, it had been so long.

"2006?" Lauren supplied for her, biting her lip and looking down determinedly at the burgundy sheets.

Bo fell into a fit of giggles, mostly because she's been unknowingly marked by Lauren last night, but also because Lauren not only remembered when she'd last done it but was so apologetic now. Bo pulled her down into a playful kiss, making Lauren join in on the laughter too. When the kisses started to move down Lauren's neck, the blonde pulled herself away.

"As fun as it would be to pick up where we left off, I think we'd both be late, Bo. You _did_ say you were going back to the school again today, right?" Lauren said, reaching up to brush some of Bo's hair out of her face with her fingers.

"Yeah… but for the record, I would _so_ rather keep doing what we were doing a little while ago."

Lauren leaned down and gave Bo an innocent peck on the tip of her nose. "Real life beckons once again. I'll take the shower first. If you wouldn't mind, could you clear up some of this mess while I'm in there?"

"I can't join you?" Bo pouted.

"I never said that," Lauren smirked dangerously. "That just depends on how fast you can clean."

Bo watched her as she climbed out of bed slowly and strutted toward the bathroom door. She was doing that on purpose, Bo was sure of it — she was such a tease. Before stepping into the adjoining room, Lauren flung her head back around and winked at Bo, whose eyes grew impossibly wide. When the door finally snapped shut, the words Lauren said finally registered. Bo flung the covers off her body and bolted toward the kitchen, carrying the take-out containers from last night with her.

She'd never cleaned so fast in her life.

It was odd how Bo found herself actually looking forward to the day at school. Mostly it was due to the way she spent last night. It was interesting how she and Lauren reconnecting, even if just for a little while, changed her perspective on things. The sun shined just a little brighter and the birdsong was just a little sweeter. She couldn't keep the grin off her face the entire ride to school, and the leg she wasn't using to drive was bouncing happily in the car seat.

Lauren noticed Bo's giddiness, but she only smiled in polite amusement at her. Lauren typically didn't wear her emotions so externally as Bo did — yesterday notwithstanding, but Bo could tell that her wife felt much the same way about last night as she did. It seemed foolish now that they hadn't done that sooner. Bo parked them both in the staff lot as school, but before Lauren moved to climb out of the Camaro, the brunette grasped her wrist, stilling her movement so she could steal one last lingering kiss before the school day began. As she pulled away from Lauren, Bo pressed her own lips together, trying to savor the taste for a few seconds longer.

"I think I'm going to stop by the precinct after school," Bo said. She continued to brush the top of Lauren's hand idly with her fingers.

"That's fine, Bo. I've got tutoring this afternoon anyway. I can catch a ride with Sandra."

Bo and Lauren both knew Sandra before Lauren even started working as a teacher; she lived down the street from them and was extremely helpful when Lauren was first getting certified herself. Even though they didn't teach the same grades or the same subject, they often talked and saw each other at school just because they were already neighbors.

"Are you sure?" Bo asked. "I can come back and pick you up when I'm done. It shouldn't take too long."

"It's fine Bo. You'll probably beat me home by an hour anyway. You don't have to drive all the way back up here. This is how Sandra and I normally get to school, remember?"

Bo nodded and squeezed Lauren's hand. "I'll be waiting for you at home when you get back," she promised.

This students still stared today, especially when Bo and Lauren walked in together with their hands entwined. Though Bo couldn't tell what exactly was being said, there were more than a few obvious whisperings going on around them. There evidently weren't many couples that worked at the school together. Mrs. Lewis and Mrs. Lewis-Dennis must have afforded them quite a fresh source of gossip for that reason alone, Bo supposed.

Bo reluctantly let Lauren's hand go when she had to depart for her own classroom, and Bo continued to hers further down the hall. There were still about fifteen minutes left before the start of class, though when Bo took her seat behind the desk, she already recognized one of the students in the front row. Pietra waved excitedly at Bo from her desk.

"Hello Pietra," Bo waved back at her quickly. "Can you come here for a moment? I have a question for you."

Pietra smiled, apparently pleased that she was being asked for her teacher's help. Bo could see that Pietra liked her, but she had a feeling that it was more because Pietra was extremely taken with her wife. Not in a romantic way, of course… It was more as if she idolized Lauren. Bo being in Lauren's life was enough for Pietra to consider her a friend.

"Yes, Mrs. Dennis?"

"Do you know where Kenzi Malikov's locker is?"

Pietra frowned. The question had not been what she was expecting, Bo could tell. "Umm, Kenzi and I don't really hang out much," she mumbled.

Bo knew Pietra and Kenzi didn't run in the same circles. Kenzi ran with a type of crowd that most parents would find abhorrent, and Pietra was the poster child for responsible child-rearing.

"That's probably a good thing," Bo said, earning a light chuckle from Pietra. "It's just… She left a couple of her things in class yesterday, and I wanted to make sure she got them back today."

"Oh… umm…" Pietra tilted her head to the side, causing her curls to bounce. Her brows furrowed after a second as she continued to think. "I'm pretty sure she's somewhere in the west hall — maybe like two-thirds of the way down?" The inflection in her voice told Bo that she wasn't completely sure, but it was all Bo had to go on at the moment. For the sake of time, she would have to take Pietra's hunch as truth.

"Thank you, Pietra," Bo said. Pietra smiled brightly, pleased at having satisfactorily answered her question.

Bo's first two classes went far more easily today. As the district instructed, she started them on their next reading assignment, _Great Expectations_. This one Bo actually had read before herself, which made her more comfortable with having to teach it to her students. There were no more surprises in class either. Every student there seemed to have already heard the news of Bo's arrival, so the shock factor wasn't in play as much as it was yesterday.

Due to the way the school designed the schedules, she also wouldn't have the troublesome trio today: Kenzi, Bruce, and Ryan. Bo listened in to the hallway conversations as best she could, but nobody divulged much that she didn't already know. All she could hope was that Pietra was right and that Kenzi was at her locker when Bo stopped by before lunch.

It grew harder and harder to wait in the last half hour before the lunch bell sounded. Eventually it did though, and Bo rushed out nearly as fast as her students did. She found the west hallway and waited for any sign of Kenzi arriving. It took a moment, but Bo grinned when she saw that Pietra was right.

"Gotcha," Bo whispered to herself.

Kenzi didn't seem to be using her locker so much as simply loitering around beside it. She appeared to be carrying everything in her worn out messenger bag, which was permanently affixed to her shoulder. Bo tried to stay out of her line of sight and blend in with the people walking in the hallway. Thankfully, there were enough there that hiding in the crowd wouldn't be an issue.

What was Kenzi doing though? She appeared to be waiting for someone because her eyes kept darting up and down the hallway while she stood there. Bo eventually learned that it was Bruce and Ryan she was expecting. Kenzi's whole body relaxed when they came approaching, and Bo watched their interactions carefully. Her eyes nearly bulged out of their sockets when she saw what the two boys handed her.

Each of them glanced around quickly, making sure nobody was watching them, obviously not spotting Bo in the distance. They reached in their bags and pulled out huge wads of cash. Bo saw it briefly, only a fraction of a second before it was shoved inside Kenzi's bag, but she saw it nonetheless. It was an enormous collection of bills, all neatly rubber banded together. Kenzi closed her bag swiftly, and the three of them simply walked away as if nothing happened.

Bo stood in the hallway dumbfounded after the three students left. She got excited again, realizing that she was catching onto their method. There were a couple of possibilities that Bo was brainstorming. She was so thrilled that she wanted to go tell Lauren this instant, though she knew she wasn't allowed to. Bo was already teetering on that boundary by accepting Dyson's help. She wasn't about to risk dragging her wife into the mess if she got in trouble for breaking her confidentiality agreement.

Lunch with Lauren would have to be a tight-lipped affair for Bo, but she wouldn't be able to keep the excitement from showing elsewhere. Between the sudden upswing in their relationship and the sudden glimpse of job success, Bo Dennis was feeling as if everything in her life was starting to finally fire on all cylinders.

* * *

Bo stopped by Lauren's classroom just after the last bell rang to give her a quick kiss before she left for the precinct. Nearly all the students were gone, but Pietra was there and actually clapped at the peck Bo planted on her wife's lips. Suffice it to say that Bo had adequately surprised Lauren; she thoroughly enjoyed the blush that she saw in response.

Bo drove quickly to the precinct, and parked the Camaro in its designated spot, but when she came inside, the place was buzzing with activity unlike she'd had ever seen it. People were familiar with Bo around the precinct. When she came inside, _someone_ always said hello or asked her if she needed anything. This time though, everyone was far too busy to notice her arrival. Even the patrol cops that had been called in were on the phone or being ushered around to take orders. Something big had happened, Bo could tell. But she was at a loss as to what it could have been.

"Dyson!" Bo called out, spotting him heading toward his desk. He was carrying a thick vest in his right hand. He definitely heard her because his head snapped up at the sound of her voice. They met halfway, by his desk.

"I can't stay, Bo… as much as I want to." He shrugged the heavy police vest over his wide shoulders and fastened it in place. "As you can see, things are a little crazy at the moment."

Bo watched as he fastened his gun holster to his belt. "What happened?"

"We think it's Massimo. The precinct just got an anonymous tip that one of his dealers got taken out. It's apparently… pretty gruesome. The DEA has jurisdiction on the scene, but we're taking lead on the homicide." He loaded a fresh clip in his pistol, adding a few spares to the pouches on the holster. "Did you need something, Bo?"

"Not really," Bo said honestly. "I think I may have gotten something of a break, and I had a few thoughts I wanted to get your input on."

"Oh," Dyson frowned. "Well… you could come with us if you want. We could talk on the way there."

"Really?"

"Yeah. The crime scene isn't closed. You'd have to wait until we secured the area before you came inside, but it really isn't a problem. Trick would let you go — no big deal."

"As long as it's quick," Bo clarified. "I can't be home late tonight."

Dyson shrugged. "I don't see any reason why it wouldn't be quick."

"Okay, sure then. Thanks, Dyson."

Dyson grinned. "No problem."

Hale radioed in while they were en route; he was at the scene waiting for Dyson to arrive. The DEA agents were already set up, and once they made sure the place was safe for investigation and there were no attackers hiding in the building, the rest of the team would be allowed inside. This was part of the detective job that Bo had always been most interested in — the action-packed, high stakes game. She envied Dyson in that he got to live the experience while she didn't, though she was grateful that she would at least get to hopefully see a little bit of it now.

"So what did you find out today?" Dyson asked her, breaking the monotony of the siren sounding overhead.

"The two friends are bringing in large sums of money to her at her locker." It was difficult not to just blurt their names, especially now that Bo was having to think of them as students and not just subjects in her investigation.

"And?"

"And I was thinking that the friends are the ones doing the leg work, and _she's_ the supplier. They make the deals, and she provides the product."

Dyson nodded, offering her a smile. "I think you're probably right."

"So what I need to do now," Bo said, talking herself through her own plan of action, "is find out _who_ the friends are selling to first, and then find out _where_ they're handing it out."

The car slowed, and Dyson pulled the police cruiser in through the series of barricades blocking the street from oncoming traffic, parking it along with the others nearby. "I think you already know where it is they're doing that though," he said with a chuckle. "As I recall, you accused me of blowing your cover."

Bo's brows furrowed together. "The playground?"

"It might be worth a shot, unless you had something else on your mind."

Bo tried to recall the finer details of that day. She'd seen Kenzi, Vex, and Bruce there, though she hadn't actually seen them give anything to any of their visitors — drugs, money, or otherwise. The visitors simply left after several minutes and never returned. There had to be something that Bo wasn't seeing if there really was an exchange taking place.

A tap on the driver's side window distracted Bo from her thoughts. She glanced over to see Hale with his head bent down toward the window. Dyson rolled the glass down for his partner, and Bo was surprised to see that he wasn't wearing his hat today. She wondered if it was by choice or if the police had regulations on field attire that didn't include fedoras.

"Sup, Bo?" Hale greeted.

"Hey, Hale," Bo replied. Hale smiled at her before he turned his attention back to his partner.

"Yo D, we got DEA up there clearing the scene now. Whenever they get back down, we're going up to take a look. You game?"

"Hell yeah, buddy," Dyson smiled widely. He glanced at Bo. "You want to come up too?" he asked.

Bo couldn't help but smile herself. "Sure," she said.

The DEA agents came piling through the front door of the apartment building as they approached. Their all black gear and huge combat weapons made them even more threatening than the entirety of the police force, and Bo made sure to stick closely next to Dyson and Hale. Even though she'd been assured that she was welcome here, she didn't want any sort of confrontation with any of these people. Bo would be perfectly content if they just left them all alone. It was too bad that wouldn't be the case.

"Thornwood!"

They spotted one of the fully DEA agents heading toward them. He was sturdily built, Bo could tell, but she couldn't see his face until he removed his headgear. He was smiling widely, and he reached up to smooth out his brown hair before heading over to throw his arm around Dyson's neck.

"Cayden, what's up man? I haven't seen you in years!" Dyson said.

"With the new division opening up out here, they're trying to fill up all the positions fast. I just got transferred last week. From what I understand, the supervisors are looking over your application right now."

Dyson grinned. "Oh you know… thought I'd give it a shot since I was already here."

"Shit, D," Cayden laughed. "You're like the poster child for agent applicants. I can't say it officially… but you are _so_ getting a fucking offer."

Dyson laughed with him. "We'll see. What do you have for us in there?"

"For you?" Cayden's eyebrows raised high, nearly reaching his hairline. "_You_ get a bloody fucking mess — sorry. What _we_ got is a mid-sized meth lab, completely trashed to shit. The boys pulled about half a million from the safe. Looked like someone tried to break into it, but couldn't get it to budge."

_Half a million dollars?_ Bo's eyes grew wide as she listened to them. She'd never personally seen that much money in her entire life. The idea of it was so foreign to her, she didn't even think she could imagine what all that money would look like if it was laid out in front of her.

"Is it one of Massimo's?" Hale asked.

Cayden shrugged. "Could be. We haven't got an ID on the body, so you fine gentlemen — and lady" he added, spotting Bo, "— will have to help us with that. Based on the brutality of it, I'd say it's not unlikely. This guy isn't street level, but he clearly isn't one of the higher ranking guys around town. What we end up seeing a lot here is one of his competitors rats him out — maybe he undersold, maybe he took a little bit of the cut for himself, or maybe he lost track of some product — and then Massimo takes him out. Then the snitch takes over his customers and makes more money for himself."

Hale shook his head in disappointment, "No honor amongst criminals, huh?"

"Nope. And the meth trade is one of the most dishonest and bloodiest things you'll see for at least three hundred miles any direction from here. That's why the people up top decided we needed some federal agents in this area."

Dyson slapped Cayden on the shoulder in a friendly gesture. "Sounds good, brother. We clear to go up?"

Cayden chuckled. "Have a freaking party, man. Call me later, and we'll grab some beers." He strolled back to where the other agents in black were still standing by their vans.

Dyson and Hale trudged up the stairs with Bo following closely behind. There was really no getting lost in the place; the first responders had already placed the yellow tape around the area, and all they had to do was follow it until it opened up into the proper unit. The CSI squad was in place, combing the apartment for evidence.

"How do you and Cayden know each other?" Bo asked Dyson as all three of them climbed through the tape outside the door. "You two seem close."

Dyson answered her: "Army Special Forces. We were in the same unit stationed in Afghanistan for four years, but we first met when he and I went through flight training together."

"You were a pilot?"

"Yes. Not a combat pilot though. I flew cargo planes and choppers mostly."

Bo would've never guessed that about him. It's not that he didn't seem like the type, she just never would have asked had it not been for Cayden. "Huh," she mused.

They all rounded the corner into the living room, and Bo stopped in her tracks at the destruction she saw. There has obviously been an elaborate glassware setup here earlier, but it was now completely ransacked. Tiny shards of glass littered the floor, and nearly every piece of furniture was overturned or broken. The place wasn't exactly a four star establishment on a regular basis, but with the added messes and spills, it more closely resembled a disaster site.

They didn't linger long in the living room. As messy as it was, the vandalized meth lab wasn't what the police were here investigate. A body was not amongst the debris on the floor anywhere they could see.

"Detective Thornwood and Detective Santiago," a woman's voice called from the next room. "I think I have what you're looking for in here."

Dyson said: "Let's go see what the ME has to say, shall we?" It was mostly for Bo's benefit. She didn't know everyone that was involved in the scene investigation like Dyson and Hale did.

Bo's stomach lurched when she walked into the room and saw the body for the first time on the bed. Cayden wasn't exaggerating — it was a bloody mess. Seeing the unusually broken corpse made Bo's skin crawl. Even the most gory television shows she saw never prepared her for the sight in front of her. She kept her face impassive, however, not betraying how disturbed it made her. Perhaps everyone was like that the first time they saw a dead body. Dyson and Hale watched Bo out of the corner of their eyes, and she wasn't about to let them think it affected her in any way.

"Hi, I'm Dr. Calvo," the woman greeted Bo. "I'd offer to shake your hand, but…" She held her gloved hands up, which were covered in dried blood.

"I understand. I'm Bo Dennis — it's nice to meet you."

"What have you got for us, Doc?" Hale asked.

"White male, estimated late twenties. As you can see, he's got multiple laceration injuries. By depth, it looks consistent with a box cutter." Dr. Calvo pointed to his arms. "The wrist bindings you see over there were pre-mortem. You can tell by the bleeding from the puncture wounds."

Having some idea of what she was going to be seeing, Bo allowed her eyes to drift back to the body. She instantly looked to the wrists, which were fastened to each of the bedposts with several loops of thick barbed wire. The pointed steel barbs were digging into the flesh deeply. The other cuts marring his skin were clearly visible, and he'd bled copiously on the bed.

Dr. Calvo continued her assessment. "He's got some signs of abdominal hemorrhage from blunt force trauma. I won't be able to say how much until I get back in the lab, but your official COD is going to be blunt force trauma to the head. I can palpate a comminuted fracture along the left anterior squamous suture, which likely sheared the middle meningeal artery and resulted in a massive epidural hematoma."

"Can I get a translation in English, please?" Hale asked.

"Someone smacked him really hard on the left side of his head, it shattered a piece of his skull, and be bled inside his head until the pressure built up and pushed his brainstem through the base of his skull, killing him."

Hale grinned. "See Doc? That wasn't that hard, was it?"

"Hmm…" Dr. Calvo replied. "CSI has already been in to sweep the room. They've bagged everything and are bringing it back to the lab as we speak. I'm done with my on-site evaluation, so unless you need to check something, I'd like to have them move the body back to the lab so I can start on a full autopsy."

Dyson stepped over toward the body, looking more closely at it. He stood over the victim and narrowed his eyes as if was looking for something.

"We don't have an ID yet?" he asked.

Dr. Calvo shook her head. "Last time I checked, no. The name on the apartment lease belongs to a seventy year-old gentleman who has been living in a retirement home for the past six months."

"Huh." Dyson took a deep breath and let it out all at once. "Well, I think we're done here, Dr. Calvo. Hale and I will be stopping by later to check in and see how things are going."

There was still a crew working diligently in the living room on their way back out. The three of them had to sidestep many of the upturned chairs and people bent over evidence piles. Their path took them straight by the window, and Bo noticed that there was now a quite different group of people waiting for them outside. It was a large civilian crowd and several news teams.

"It looks like we've got company," Bo mused, causing Dyson and Hale to see where she was looking.

"Shit," Dyson sneered. "Who tipped off the press?"

"You know what?" Hale said, raising his eyebrows. "I think I'm going to stay here and help Dr. Calvo for a bit. I'll see you later at the lab, D-man." He strolled back in the direction they'd just come from, leaving Dyson and Bo by themselves. Dyson glanced at Bo, and she could practically hear the question he was asking with his eyes.

"I have to get back home, Dyson," Bo said.

He sighed again. "Fine."

They didn't say anything to each other on the way back downstairs. As they emerged through the main door to the outside again, Bo was surprised by how large the crowd actually was. From above, it looked much smaller. She knew it was going to be difficult to get through the crowd of people, but what she didn't expect was for them to actually obstruct their path back to the police cruiser.

_Detective, what can you tell us about the murder?_

_Was it really Massimo?_

_How much money was found on the scene?_

_Should the public be worried this kind of violence might spill over into their homes?_

All those questions were being hurled at Dyson as he tried to navigate the way back to his patrol car. But at each turn, he was only met with another microphone shoved in his face or another concerned citizen that wouldn't give up their place behind the yellow tape. He eventually realized that he wasn't going to be let out until he gave the media something of what they wanted. Even if it didn't really tell them anything new, people would feel better if he simply made a statement on the matter. Dyson waved over the nearest camera crew, and they hurried over excitedly.

"Make it fast," he instructed the youngsters behind the camera. They beckoned over their anchor, who arrived moments later. He spoke quickly, giving the news crew names and learning what questions would be asked.

Bo watched in a daze as the chaos intensified around her. More microphones gathered when it became obvious that Dyson would be addressing the media, and they all pressed closer in, vying for a more advantageous spot. Dyson put his arm around her waist, pulling her closer and away from the energized crowd.

The countdown began for the camera crew, and they held their fingers up to demonstrate the seconds remaining before airtime. _Five, four three, two_…

"Good evening, this is Channel Seven news on scene giving you the latest breaking news on the ongoing murder investigation announced just hours ago. We have with us Detective Dyson Thornwood and Private Investigator Bo Dennis here on the scene to tell us more."

Bo's ears perked up at the sound of her own name. For some reason, she hadn't actually made the connection that she would be on camera as well, and she looked up with a surprised expression on her face. The little red dot was on, signaling that they were airing live.

"Tell me, Detective," the anchor continued, "what does the motive appear to be in a brutal killing such as this?"

Dyson answered: "The exact motive is unclear at this point, but it appears to be drug-related based on our preliminary findings."

"Do you have reason to believe that it's Massimo?"

"At this point, we're still entertaining all our leads. Massimo is on that list, but he's not the sole focus of our investigation at this early stage."

Most people could have guessed the answers to those questions without Dyson even answering him. But sometimes, it helped to be reassured. People were terrified of Massimo — and not just the ones that worked for him. The very idea that he could be behind all this had people panicked.

"Should people be worried for their own safety?" the news anchor asked seriously.

"Not as far as we can tell. This was a violent act, but there is nothing to suggest that it was a random, wayward event. It was premeditated and directed at a single person. There's no need for a panic just yet."

The news anchor nodded. "Thank you, Detective. If I might add just one more question."

"Of course."

"What should we be expecting to hear in the coming hours and days about the murder?"

Dyson frowned. "It's hard to say. We've only investigated the scene at the moment. My plan for right now is to get us both out of here and back to the station." His arm migrated a little further up Bo's back, and he squeezed her more tightly to his body.

The news anchor eyed the action closely. It was his job to be observant, and he didn't miss Dyson's subtle gesture. "I see," he said. "Ms. Dennis, do you have anything to add regarding the investigation?"

Bo blinked several times. How was she supposed to answer that question? She wasn't a member of the police; she'd simply tagged along for the experience. As a rule, even _she_ knew that she wasn't allowed to divulge details about the case, which ironically was all they'd gotten on the scene.

"It's basically everything he said," Bo replied, referring to Dyson's answers. "Detective Thornwood and the rest of the police department have done an outstanding job so far."

The detective's face broke out into a winning smile. Much to Bo's surprise — and horror — he leaned his head over and pressed his lips to the side of her mouth. It wasn't a long kiss, or even a passionate one. It was barely even a peck, yet the sensation stung Bo like she'd been slapped. And she didn't think it was because of his scratchy beard.

"Very good," the news anchor's smile was as wide as Dyson's, and he turned back to address the camera. "Well you've heard it here first — an exclusive on the murder from one of our very own police department officials. Back to you at the studio, Gina."

The red light went off, and the switch of color seemed to snap Bo back to her senses. Now that the camera wasn't rolling, nobody seemed all that interested in them anymore. The crowd started to meander elsewhere along the yellow tape, freeing up Bo and Dyson from their blockade.

Bo swiftly rolled out of Dyson's grasp. He actually seemed surprised, even more so when she whirled around to slap him across the side of his face — _hard_. It hurt Bo's hand, but it must have hurt him much worse. The red imprint rose instantly covering almost the entire left side of his face, and he glanced back to Bo with a pained and confused expression on his face.

"Take me back, now," Bo spat. It wasn't a loud command, but her tone of voice got the point across. Dyson appeared to finally realize the fault of his actions. He at least had the decency to appear shamefaced as he nodded and led Bo back to the car.

It was the most awkward car ride Bo ever experienced. The first part of it was spent in a rage. He'd just done that on the live local news. Anyone who happened to have their televisions tuned to channel seven were liable to see it, and for Bo that made her anger even worse. She seriously considered telling Dyson to stop the car and let her walk back to the precinct, but she wasn't ready to walk the fifteen miles back to their starting point. Eventually, when Bo could rage no more, she simply propped her elbow on the window and rested her hand on her hand to stare out the window. She was aware that Dyson was sending apologetic glances her way. Bo ignored him; she didn't have one ounce of forgiveness to spare him at the moment. He pulled into the precinct's parking lot and shut off the car.

"I'm sorry, Bo." She didn't move from her position, continuing to stare out the window. "I don't know what came over me. I wasn't thinking — I just — I just did it. Please forgive me." Bo finally turned in her seat to face him. There was nothing in her eyes — no anger, and no feeling. To Dyson, it was even worse than facing her rage.

"Maybe it's my fault for not making it clear to you, so let me fix that right now," Bo said in a low, dangerous voice. "I am married… happily married to the most amazing, wonderful woman in the world, and I would not give that up for anything. The next time you pull a stunt like that, this arrangement is over. Do you understand?"

"Bo, I'm sorry —"

"Do you understand?" she asked more loudly, cutting him off.

Dyson nodded slowly. "Did you have any more questions about your case?" he offered. He was trying to steer the conversation toward more pleasant topics again.

"Not right now. To be honest, I think it's best if I worked with Hale only for the next few days," she said, making Dyson's face fall. "I need some space, and you need to figure out some things for yourself if we're going to ever work together again."

Bo grabbed the door handle to let herself out, but before she closed the door, Dyson said again: "I really am sorry, Bo. I hope you can forgive me."

At this moment, Bo did know for certain if she could.

* * *

Pietra took to Lauren's new tutoring methods even better than expected. As Lauren suspected, she was a visual learner. She had trouble envisioning complex concepts in her head, but when Lauren made illustrations on paper, Pietra grasped them much quicker. Lauren had even made use of markers to color code everything she'd drawn. Together, they'd worked through a copy of the last test, though Lauren let Pietra do most of the work. She'd gotten ninety percent of the answers correct on her own.

Pietra was thrilled that she'd done so well. There were still many topics to remediate, but they'd covered a lot of ground today. Her success put Lauren in a good mood on the way home. When Sandra dropped her off outside, Lauren made a quick trip by the mailbox and went inside with a smile on her face.

"Bo?" Lauren called out. There was no response. "Honey, can you hear me?"

She was met with silence once again. The entire house appeared untouched from this morning. Bo's car wasn't in the garage, and her keys weren't in their usual place, the decorative bowl on top of the kitchen counter overlooking the living room. The errand at the precinct must have taken longer than she thought.

Lauren wandered into the kitchen sifting through the mail. The junk was obvious, and she started a pile to discard into the recycle bin. Lauren paused however, when she saw an envelope with letterhead from the county hospital. She ripped it open, pulling out the two enclosed documents. She quickly read the one in front first:

_Mrs. Lauren Lewis,_

_The services rendered for your dependent, Mrs. Janine Lewis, from September 23 to September 28, 2014, were denied coverage by your insurance provider for failing to meet the minimum criteria for inpatient admission. As per hospital policy, such services denied by third party insurance will be billed directly to the beneficiary._

_Enclosed herewith is a copy of your invoice for the aforementioned admission. All balances must be paid in full within thirty days of processing. If you need to make arrangements for payment plans, our Accounts Payable office is available Monday through Friday, 8 am - 5 pm. We are sorry for the inconvenience this may have caused you._

We are sorry for inconvenience this _may_ have caused you? Could there really be any other outcome? Lauren was actually afraid to look at the page folded behind it. Whatever number was printed on the page was definitely not going to be be pleasant. Eventually she decided to just go for it, like ripping off a band-aid. She found the little box at the bottom that displayed the total amount due, and she wished she hadn't looked.

It was over twelve thousand dollars.

Lauren didn't have that sort of spare cash sitting around her bank account. This bill was from two months ago, when her mother stayed at the county hospital in town. She already knew she would have more bills coming from Dr. Everett — she wasn't in the insurance company's HMO — and the house bills would be arriving in the next few days. Between all of it, Lauren didn't know how she would realistically pay the full amount. The bills would only continue to get worse in the future, and for the first time since she'd dealt with her and Bo's financial struggles, she really started to panic.

Her hand shook as she held the paper in front of her. She needed Bo, needed some sort of support right now, and she wished that her wife was here with her. Lauren pulled out her cell phone and dialed her up, pacing through the living room as the phone rang and rang continuously. Lauren became increasingly frantic each time she called and it went to voicemail. On the third attempt, she left Bo a worried message.

Controlling her breathing helped occasionally when she felt like this. Lauren was familiar with several techniques that would decrease her anxiety, so she curled herself onto the couch to make herself more comfortable. Long, deep inhale through the nose… Hold… Exhale slowly through the mouth. Repeat — as many times as she needed to stop shaking. The mental turmoil never went away, but the visceral response abated somewhat. Before long, Lauren was even able to pick up the remote control from the coffee table and press the power button without any problems.

Lauren really didn't have any desire to watch television, what she needed was a distractor. Any channel would have worked perfectly, so Lauren simply kept it on the first one that came up when she powered on the television. It was a news channel; Lauren tucked her feet up underneath her on the couch and listened — anything to take her mind off her crisis until she heard back from Bo.

There'd been a murder in town, apparently. The newswoman, Gina, gave the short brief on the situation. Initial reports said the victim's name was Anton Malikov, and he'd apparently been mixed up in some sort of drug dispute. They showed images of the utter destruction at his place. When Gina said the amount of money the DEA recovered from the scene, Lauren's eyes grew wide. _Five hundred thousand dollars_. It was an impossible sum of money. She sat up straighter and listened intently.

"People all over the city are asking questions about the possibility of Massimo's involvement," Gina said. "The DEA declined to make a statement, but we have our news crew at the scene, and a representative from the police department agreed to make a statement. We're taking you to the scene for more."

Lauren watched as the camera cut over to the on-location news anchor, and her ears perked when she heard Bo's name mentioned in the introduction. The camera panned over, and she saw her wife standing next to the police detective they introduced a moment ago. Lauren bristled when she saw him put his arm around her waist. Bo didn't say much of anything, but Lauren smiled when the interviewer finally asked her a question.

That all went away shortly after Bo answered the question. A weight dropped in Lauren's stomach that felt heavier than a sack of bricks, and her veins turned to ice. The detective leaned over to kiss Bo… her wife… The image was horrifying, and the anchor's reaction made her even angrier, as if he were encouraging it. Lauren hurriedly searched for the remote again, jamming her finger against the power button as fast as she possibly could to stop the scene on the television.

Bo promised she would be here when Lauren got back home today. Her trip was supposed to be a quick stop at the precinct, and Lauren had the misfortune of seeing her on the afternoon special news bulletin being kissed by one of the detectives that obviously worked at the precinct where Bo was spending much of her time these days. After Lauren's vulnerable moment with Bo last night, seeing that image hurt — more than she could possibly put into words. There was an actual ache sitting in the middle of her chest that was surely related to her heightened emotions.

Suddenly, Lauren went from feeling on cloud nine to feeling completely alone. It was not a great time to be feeling completely hopeless, that was for sure. She reached for her phone again, this time calling a different number. It was a contact she avoided most other days, and the last time she'd dialed it was a couple of years ago.

It picked up on the second ring.

"Hello, Dr. Taft?" she said. "It's Lauren Lewis. I was wondering if I could stop by later to discuss that job opportunity with you."

* * *

It felt odd being here again. Taft's office was on the top floor, and he hadn't changed much with the decor, but the place still couldn't have looked any more differently to Lauren. Perhaps that was because on this occasion, she was actually entertaining the idea of working for him.

She also made the decision not to tell Bo; she'd been too hurt by what she saw on the television, and that quickly stewed into a growing irritation.

Taft had offered her attractive employment packages in the past: a comfortable salary, a decent pension, insurance options, and even signing bonuses on the last two occasions. He was a deplorable human being, but after the last hour or so of Lauren's day, she felt as if she could handle working for him. Lauren wouldn't give him a definitive answer either way until she talked to Bo, but she wasn't exactly feeling overly concerned about her wife's misgivings the moment. The image of her and the detective on the television screen kept playing in her head — over and over again.

Lauren navigated the familiar area easily, right up to Taft's office door. It was made of thick, frosted glass, and his name was etched on the front along with his multiple degrees. Bile rose in Lauren's mouth as she read the last one, the one he'd earned using her research and hadn't even bothered to list her as a co-author. She knocked quickly on the door, and he opened a few seconds later.

"My, my… Lauren Lewis, after all these years," he smiled widely at her, though it didn't quite reach his eyes. "Please come in and have a seat."

At least Taft's suit selection grew better over the years. The tailored navy blue number he was wearing now was actually flattering on him and gave him an heir of sophistication that Lauren didn't usually associate with the man. He unbuttoned his jacket and took up his office seat across from Lauren. The desk between them was massive, and Lauren was thankful because it at least physically limited how close he could get to her.

"You know," he said, running his hand through his hair to smooth it out, "I was a little surprised to hear from you, I have to admit."

"To be completely honest with you, I was more than a little surprised that I called myself."

Taft chuckled at the slight jab. "I trust that the driver I sent over was to your liking?"

"He was fine, thank you," Lauren nodded.

"Of course. Anything for an old colleague." He leaned forward in his seat, propping his elbows on the desk and folding his hands in front of him. To anyone else it would have been intimidating, but Lauren knew him too well to let his power posturing bother her. She knew him probably better than any of the employees here. "So you're interested in a job now? That's a welcome change," he said, grinning at her. "If it's not too nosy, may I ask why the sudden change of heart?"

"My reasons are personal." She pressed her lips together into a tight line.

Taft narrowed his eyes at her, clearly trying to read what was going on in her mind. "I see. You know Lauren, the first time I heard you were making a career change to teaching high school, I couldn't believe it. You weren't the type. You were much too good for it — such a waste of talent. I'm glad to see that you've finally come to your senses."

"I've never regretted my job," Lauren clarified. "It's just time for a change."

"Of course, I didn't mean to insinuate anything insulting. My apologies if it came across that way."

He reached over to the stack of files on his desk and pulled a blank contract out from one of the folders. Lauren recognized the papers instantly, having received them multiple times before. Taft began swiftly filling out the form blanks with the arrangements.

"Now obviously, I can't offer you the _exact_ same deal as last time."

Lauren nodded. "That's understandable."

Taft put the last touches across the bottom and flicked his pen across the signature line before handing the document to Lauren. "See if that suits you," he said.

Lauren read through the stipulations of the contract offered to her. The usual components, such as vacations and pensions, were still the standard company values, but Lauren's eyes narrowed when she reached the section detailing financial compensation. It was barely more money than she was making now at the high school, and there was zero offered for a signing bonus. Last time she'd been offered twice as much in salary and an additional ten thousand dollars in a signing bonus. It was a position that required advanced technical skills, and to be only offered little more than what she was making now wasn't just unfair… It was insulting.

"Why are you doing this?" Lauren asked, looking up to meet Taft's blue eyes with her own. "You know that any job I did for you would be worth twice this much, at least."

"You're familiar with a free market economy, yes?" Taft grinned, but Lauren stayed silent. "It's quite simple, really: supply and demand. You see, back when I offered you the job previously, I had an identified need — a _demand_ problem. Now, it's _you_ that has the demand problem. You have an identified interest in the product I have to offer you. As long as the demand is adequate, I can ask for anything I want. And I don't believe I'm wrong in assessing that you must have been pretty desperate to call me tonight. I'm no fool, Lauren. I know that you wouldn't have called for my help unless you literally had no other option."

Taft's grin grew even wider, transforming into a sinister smile. Lauren's anger began to bubbly hotly beneath the surface of her skin. Here he was again, making her life difficult for no other reason than simply because he could. Taft still wanted Lauren to work there, there was no doubt in her mind. However, if he really had his own self-interests in mind, he would have offered her a decent contract while she willing to consider it. But he'd used Lauren's desperation as a way to further his spite. It was not only cruel, it was stupid.

"This is bullshit," Lauren said, lacing her disgust into every word. She stood up from her chair and took each edge of the paper, ripping it clean in half and throwing the remnants back at Taft. The pieces of torn paper danced in the air as they fell down to his desk. "I don't need this from you — or from anyone for that matter. One of these days, the things you've done are going to come back and bite you in the ass. I can only hope that I'm around to witness it first hand."

Taft actually laughed at her outburst, as if he found it the most amusing thing in the world. Lauren gathered her purse and moved to leave, but Taft spoke up right before she got to the door.

"One more thing before you head out, Mrs. Lewis," he called out, still recovering from his laughter a moment ago.

"What?!" Lauren spat.

His grin was completely malicious. "I wanted to congratulate Bo on her television debut earlier. I heard she made… ahh… quite the impression."

Lauren didn't have any more words for him. If anything, time had only made him more ruthless, and she wasn't about to spend any more time in his presence. She looked determinedly away and stormed out of the office, slamming the door behind her.


	5. Drop Out

When she first got home, Bo spent a solid five minutes sitting in the car by herself. The silence allowed her to think, and she wanted to have her words planned out before she spoke to Lauren. Bo had a habit of impulsively saying whatever came to her mind. Sometimes that got her into trouble though. Bo wanted to ensure that their communication was right this time, and that required some forethought on her part. But when she went inside, the one person she wanted to see the most wasn't there.

Bo's confusion when she got home quickly turned into panic when she received a terse phone call from Lauren, demanding that she pick her up from Dr. Taft's office building. When Bo asked what was wrong, Lauren simply hung up. She was shocked for a moment, but the fear of what could have happened there — with _him_ of all people — sprung Bo into action. She slung her leather jacket on quickly and hurried back to her car.

She disregarded more than a few traffic laws on the way there as well. The speed limits meant nothing to her, and she weaved her way in and out of the passing cars to go faster. It didn't even bother when she was honked at or got flipped off. She was single-mindedly driving toward Lauren. Nothing else mattered very much at the moment.

Lauren stood at a distance by herself, staring at the ground and clutching her own arms. Bo saw her beneath a street light as she drove the car up toward the office building. She didn't waste time going to the parking lot; instead, she simply stopped the car in the middle of the wide lane, leaving it abandoned with the door opened as she climbed out to see to her wife.

"Lauren!" Bo called out. The blonde still didn't move from her position. The chilly wind was blowing her hair around her face, and Lauren didn't even bother to smooth it out. Bo finally made it up to her, and was trying to hide how hard she was breathing. "Baby, are you okay?" Bo asked frantically.

The muscles in Lauren's jaws twitched, but she didn't look up from the ground beneath her feet. Bo could sense she was upset, so she reached forward to pull her into a strong embrace. However, her arms never made it around her. Lauren left her hand up to block the gesture by Bo, causing a hurt expression to cross the brunette's face.

"Lo, what's wrong?"

Lauren shook her head. She hadn't raised her head once yet, and she didn't seem as if she wanted to anytime soon. "Just take me home," Lauren said, barely louder than a whisper.

None of what just happened eased any of Bo's worries, but she nodded anyway, leading Lauren back to the car. Her wife wanted space, so Bo gave it to her, though she did open the car door for her and closed it behind her.

Lauren didn't utter a single word the entire ride back home. Bo kept stealing glances, hoping to get caught so that at least Lauren would say _something_. But Lauren was staring determinedly out the passenger's side window. Either she was oblivious to Bo or she was purposefully avoiding interacting with her, and neither of those possibilities were very appealing. When Bo pulled the car out in front of their home, Lauren headed inside on her own, leaving a dumbfounded Bo standing outside in the dark by herself. The crickets were apparently the only ones that wanted to talk to Bo at the moment.

Bo trudged inside, where Lauren had already taken up her usual spot on the couch. Bo kneeled down in front of her; that was the only way she could get actually see Lauren's eyes. They were blank, completely devoid of any outward emotion. Bo reached forward, placing her hand on top of Lauren's in her lap.

"Can we please talk about it?" Bo asked.

Lauren flinched slightly, but she recovered her stoic facade in a fraction of a second. "I can't do it, Bo," she said shaking her head and pulling her hand out from underneath her wife's. "Not tonight at least."

Bo's throat constricted. Lauren's reticence at Taft's building could easily be explained by what happened while she was there, but each minute it continued after they left, Bo became more suspicious that Lauren's pain wasn't simply caused by her old classmate. She wouldn't have pulled away from Bo — especially after the way they'd reconnected last night — simply because Taft acted the way he usually did. There was something else bothering her. Bo realized with a wave of nausea that she may have witnessed Dyson kissing her on the news.

The careful speech planning that she'd undertaken earlier flew out the window. Those preparations had been made under the assumption that Lauren hadn't seen the broadcast. If she really had seen it and thought Bo was a cheater… Bo couldn't even entertain the possibility. She needed Lauren to know _now_ that what happened on camera wasn't as it appeared.

Bo's voice came out uneven. "Lauren, please… Whatever you're thinking, I can explain —"

"Bo," Lauren interjected, clenching her eyes shut. "_Please_. I just want to sleep."

That's not what Bo wanted at all, but if Lauren asked for it, she would give her that. Bo nodded and stood up, trying to hide her hurt from Lauren. It was probably fortunate that Lauren wasn't looking at her right now; Bo was liable to spill tears at any moment, and her wife's expression would have been enough to make the dams break.

"Okay," Bo whispered. "I'll be in bed when you're ready."

Bo could barely stop her hands shaking long enough to put on her sleep shirt. Despite doing nothing intentionally to upset her wife, she had a feeling that Lauren was upset with her for what happened earlier — though without her saying anything, she had no way to be certain. Bo felt helpless in the situation. She needed to explain herself, but she couldn't. She needed to hold Lauren, but she couldn't. She needed to find a way out of the financial mess they were in, but she couldn't. Bo curled up in the bed on her side, leaving the door wide open for Lauren.

After forty-five minutes, Bo began to wonder if her wife was planning on sleeping on the couch tonight. Now _that_ would have hurt. Despite the many arguments they'd had over the past seven years, they at least managed to avoid that particular stigma during their marriage. Bo sighed silently in relief when she saw Lauren's silhouette in the doorway. The blonde changed into her sleepwear and crawled wordlessly into bed as well, her back facing toward Bo.

The brunette sat still for a moment, and when she was sure Lauren wasn't going to change her mind and leave, she reached out to rest her arm on Lauren's hip. There was no resistance, not even a recoil as Bo touched her. Bo scooted forward to wrap her arm further around her body, and Lauren stayed unnervingly still. She didn't move away, but she also didn't push her body back into Bo's.

Bo watched Lauren's breathing intently. She wasn't sure how long it was— maybe twenty minutes, maybe half an hour — but the steady movements were Bo's only source of comfort at the moment. They slowed to deep, prolonged breaths, the steady respirations of a person that had drifted off to sleep. Bo leaned her head forward, nuzzling her face into Lauren's soft hair.

"I love you," Bo whispered. "So, so much." She pressed a light kiss behind Lauren's ear, then rested her head again on her own pillow. The smell of her wife's hair was comforting, and Bo quickly fell asleep as well.

She had no way of knowing that Lauren's eyes were open the entire time. At Bo's words, tears started forming behind Lauren's eyes, and she couldn't stop them once they started falling.

* * *

Nothing was going right for Bo today.

Lauren still wasn't ready to talk this morning, and though she promised that they'd talk after school, that still didn't ease the way Bo was feeling right now. The brunette was irritable with the students in her classes, even when they'd done nothing wrong. It didn't make things any better when Kenzi didn't show up in Bo's second period lecture.

At first, the empty seat didn't mean anything out of the ordinary for Bo. She was half expecting her to parade in late again and disrupt the class as per her usual routine. But as minutes passed and the longer they went on, the more obvious it became that Kenzi wasn't going to be at school today. Even Ryan and Bruce seemed out of sorts and lost with the empty desk beside them. Neither of them made a peep the entire period. Bo was thankful for the reprieve from their trouble making, but she would have rather had Kenzi there for the purposes of her investigation.

She found Pietra in the hallway before lunch. The happy coincidence sprung an idea into Bo's mind. She approached the hyperactive teenager, who once again, seemed happy to see Bo.

"Hello, Mrs. Dennis!" Pietra greeted.

"Hi, Pietra," Bo replied. "Can I ask you a favor? It's going to sound very strange, but I need you to promise me that you won't tell anyone about it."

Pietra's brows furrowed, but she nodded nonetheless. None of her teachers had asked her anything of the sort before, Bo was certain. It was also part of the reason she trusted Pietra not to tell anyone else. She probably felt a great sense of importance when Bo asked for her assistance and wouldn't betray that for the world.

"Sure. What is it that you need?"

Bo reached into her purse, and pulled out several bills from her wallet. It hurt to see them go, as their sum totaled around a hundred dollars, but if she was right, the benefits she would reap would more than make up for the loss.

Bo handed a very stunned looking Pietra the cash, and said: "I need you to go up to either Bruce Conley or Ryan Lambert, hand them that, and tell them that you need one of their 'special orders.' Can you do that for me?"

It was fortunate that Pietra was so naive in the ways of normal teen misconduct. It was obvious from her facial expression that she had no idea what Bo just asked her to do. She was mouthing the instructions back, trying to figure out what they meant, to no avail.

"They're going to tell you something, and I just want to know what they say back, okay?" Bo tried to reassure her. "That's all."

Pietra seemed mollified by Bo's words, and after Bo guaranteed her that she would be waiting in the same spot when she returned, Pietra scampered down the hall to find the two boys. It was at least ten minutes before she returned empty handed, with another confused look. Bo met her halfway as she approached.

"Are you all right Pietra?" Bo asked. "What did they say?"

"They said 'this weekend at Pinewood Park, three o'clock.'"

Bo broke out in a smile, and Pietra was none the wiser. If her assumptions were correct, by this Saturday, she could have her case closed. Ryan and Bruce were paid up, and this weekend, they would have to deliver, which implicated Kenzi in the plan. At least something had gone right today, even if everything else now felt like it was falling apart.

* * *

Lauren was just about to leave after dismissing her students from detention. She'd already placed last night's homework in her bag to finish grading tonight. Lauren slung the bag over her shoulder when she was finished, but she halted when the secretary, Marsha came in again.

"I've got some good news for you Mrs. Lewis… Depending on how you look at it, that is" Marsha said.

That was an odd description of news. Normally, people just said that it was either good or bad. Or they said that they had both to give.

"What is it?" Lauren asked.

"Well, it looks like one of your frequent flyers, Kenzi Malikov, just dropped out of school today."

Lauren frowned. Kenzi never got stellar grades, mostly because she didn't try very hard, but she was still on target to graduate in the spring with the rest of the senior class. Unless she did something incredibly stupid, she would have had her diploma in a few short months. Why she would spend all that time working for something to completely drop it in the home stretch was a mystery to Lauren.

"Did she say why she was dropping out?" Lauren asked.

"All she said was 'personal reasons.'" Martha shook her head. "Other than that, I really don't know anything. Technically, she didn't even need to provide notice since she was eighteen, but I get the feeling that she didn't know that."

Lauren nodded. "Thank you, Martha."

"Of course, Mrs. Lewis. I'll see you tomorrow!" The older woman shuffled out of the doorway, leaving Lauren confused in her wake.

Not many kids ever dropped out of this high school. When Vex finally did it this year, he had been the first in several years to do so, and even he stayed for several attempts before giving up. Kenzi had never flunked a class before in her entire life, though she'd come dangerously close. In Lauren's chemistry class last year, she just barely earned a "D," but she did pass, however. She'd always been skilled in doing just the minimum amount of work to get herself by. Something must have happened in the past two days that made Kenzi reconsider going to school, and as her teacher, Lauren did have a vested interest in her education — no matter how much she disliked the girl personally. Right now though, Kenzi's problems could wait. Lauren had enough problems of her own to deal with at home.

She found herself dreading the conversation she promised Bo the entire ride back home. Even thinking about the way it made her feel conjured up the unpleasant images she'd seen on the television screen and brought her panic from their financial situation back in full force. It was far easier not to think about, and so Lauren kept her mind blank as Sandra drove them both home. As soon as she got back home, the first thing she notices was the bright yellow Camaro in the driveway. The inevitable moment had arrived. Lauren thanked Sandra and took a deep, steadying breath before climbing out of her friend's car.

Bo was pacing up and down the living room when Lauren stepped inside. She halted mid-step at first sight of the blonde, an expectant look on her face.

"Hey," Bo said uneasily. "How are you?"

"I'm fine, Bo," Lauren answered. Her words didn't do much to alleviate the unease behind her wife's expression, however. Lauren didn't think she was ready to have the talk that Bo so desperately wanted, but if she was being honest with herself, she probably never would be completely ready for it.

Bo stared at her feet and toed the edge of the rug nervously. "Can we talk now?" she said, her voice growing even smaller.

"I think it's time we did."

Lauren gestured toward the couch, and Bo followed her there eagerly. Once they were both seated, neither of them seemed to know how to start. Lauren didn't want to have the conversation to begin with, and Bo was too preoccupied with what to say first. They sat in silence for a moment in avoidance of what was to come. Eventually, it was Lauren who spoke up first.

"I saw the news report, Bo," the blonde said.

Bo's face fell at her words. "Lauren, I'm sorry you saw that, but it's not what you think —"

"I wasn't ready for how much it hurt to see, especially with everything that happened before…"

"What happened?"

Lauren leaned forward, digging through the collection of day old mail on the coffee table. She found the ominous letter from yesterday, pulling it out and handing it to Bo. Lauren didn't even need to answer what was wrong; the letter's content spoke for itself. Bo grasped the paper gently, her eyes darting through the paper quickly as she read the notice.

"I might have an answer for this," Bo said with a tentative smile. She held the letter up to emphasize what she was talking about. Lauren's confusion must have been written all over her face because Bo felt the need to elaborate. "I'm close to solving my case. Once I finish, I get the second half of my advance. That will completely take care of this entire thing."

That was news to Lauren. She knew the amount Bo received as the first half of her advance, but she wasn't aware that her wife was so close to getting the other half. It would cover the immediate bill, but they would still need to devise a way to continue the higher payments down the line. But removing the immediate threat to their financial situation was still an attractive option. It just pained Lauren to continually place these sort of burdens on them both, and she couldn't help but think that Bo didn't deserve to live with that kind of anvil hanging from her neck.

"I'm glad that Detective Thornwood could be of so much help to you," Lauren nodded. The words turned bitter in her mouth as they came out, and her face contorted into a painful grimace. She had to look away from Bo to cover the hurt that the reminder caused.

"Lauren, please look at me," Bo begged. Slowly, Lauren lifted her eyes up to meet her wife's. "What you saw… It's not what you think. What happened on camera — he did that on his own. I didn't want him to, and as soon as the shock wore off, I slapped him across his face."

Lauren stared at Bo, trying to see the truth behind her explanation. Her speech was something that anyone would have said if they got caught, and as much as she wanted to believe that Bo wouldn't have done such a thing, her logical brain wouldn't let the idea go. She'd been hurt by the images she'd seen, and as a defense mechanism, her mind was questioning everything.

"I love _you_, Lauren. Nobody else," Bo continued, seeing the turmoil on her wife's face. "I couldn't feel those things about anyone else even if I tried. The only person I want to have those moments with is you. We've had some rough times, but that has never changed for me. A couple of days ago, when we —" Bo sighed at the memory, "— Lauren, that was like a dream come true for me. Can't we just get back to that without something else, or _someone_ else, always trying to butt in and get in the way?"

The sincerity behind Bo's words shone through her eyes, and despite the logical doubt that was still nagging at the back of Lauren's thoughts, another much more powerful sensation drowned it out. There was still hurt, but she could finally see past it. Lauren leaned forward, grasping Bo's face in her hands and ignoring the surprised look on her wife's face. The shock didn't keep Bo from responding as Lauren pressed their lips together in a slow kiss; her hand even drifted up to caress the side of Lauren's elbow with her fingertips. It was long and lingering, and when Lauren broke them apart, Bo kept her eyes closed and licked her lips, trying to savor the taste of the kiss.

"I love you too," Lauren breathed out. "And I can't help but think that this isn't going to be enough for you. You deserve to be able to do the things you want to do with nobody holding you back, and I can't give you that anymore." Her voice was starting to waiver for the first time.

"Please don't say that."

"It's true, Bo. You've given up too much to stay with me, to help out with my mother. Now _I_ signed up for that… But _you_ didn't, not when we got together. And it kills me because that detective — he could give you more, give you the kind of life you deserve. You wouldn't need to give up everything you want just to make ends meet like you are now."

Bo reached forward to grasp Lauren's hands in her own. She gave them a gentle squeeze before trailing her thumbs over the backs of Lauren's palms. "You keep trying to give me an out, and I don't want one," Bo said. "Just because some dumbass tried to make a move on me yesterday does not make me want this any less. It's like I told you before: I want this — I want us — and that includes the hard stuff too. I signed up for anything and everything the day I fell for you. Just tell me what you need. Please don't shut me out." Her eyes were pleading, and it made Lauren's heart ache even more.

Lauren needed many things, but most of them were monetary at the moment. As for what Bo could give her? There was only one thing Lauren could think of at the moment.

"Well, if that's the case… I think we need some ground rules," Lauren said.

"Anything you want. What did you have in mind?"

Lauren glanced down at her hands, which were still sitting in Bo's. She watched as Bo's thumbs made another pass over the skin on the back of her hands, closing her eyes briefly at the pleasant contact. Bo was watching her expectantly when their eyes met again.

"For starters," Lauren said seriously, "no Dyson."

Bo smiled easily and shook her head. "That won't be a problem." She removed her hands from their position over Lauren's, moving them to the back of Lauren's neck. Her eyes shone brightly as she held Lauren's gaze. "I promise."

It was Bo that initiated the kiss this time, and she didn't show any signs of relenting. She escalated the kiss quickly, pulling their bodies closer on the couch and allowing her hands to wander over Lauren's body. As her hands reached for the button on Lauren's pants, her wife pulled them apart. Bo had a worried look on her face, as if she'd done something wrong.

"I have to do something before we get started," Lauren explained, though the words only made Bo's worry turn into pure disbelief. "It shouldn't take long. I just need to talk to one of my students. If I don't do it now, I probably wouldn't do it at all tonight."

"You know, with the plans I have for you, you're probably right." Bo gave Lauren a tortured look at the thought of what the two of them could be doing instead at this very moment. "Is this something that can wait until later?"

"It's fairly urgent."

"_This_ is fairly urgent," Bo muttered, her expression finally turning into a pout.

Lauren stood up from the couch and pressed a quick kiss against Bo's forehead. "I'll be back as soon as I can."

"Should I take a cold shower while you're gone, or no?" Bo asked, her expression cautiously hopeful. Lauren caught onto her tone immediately.

"I wouldn't worry about that. I'll be back before you know it."

"You better be," Bo grinned. "You know how unhealthy it is to leave a girl hanging like that," she said, an echo from their earlier night together.

* * *

Kenzi's house was easy enough to find using the school's student directory. It was a few neighborhoods over from where she and Bo lived, but many of the houses still looked similar. Every few houses had the same color bricks and many of them shared floor plans that made them structurally similar on the outside as well. Lauren could tell which one was hers by the large numbers mounted to the side of the front door.

She parked the yellow Camaro out front and wasted no time approaching the door. There was some commotion inside after she knocked sharply, and a disheveled woman came stumbling out.

"What do you want?" the woman growled. It almost looked as if she'd just woken up. She was leaning heavily on the open door as if she needed it to support her weight.

"I came to speak to Kenzi Malikov. Is she here?" Lauren asked politely.

The woman ignored her question and asked again, more loudly this time, "What do you want?"

"I assume you are Kenzi's mother then. I heard that she dropped out of school today, and I wanted to discuss it with her and make sure there was nothing wrong."

To Lauren's surprise, Kenzi's mother actually started laughing at the news. Most parents would have been at least disappointed and at worst absolutely horrified, but Mrs. Malikov appeared positively gleeful. Lauren frowned as she watched the woman, wondering if she heard the words correctly.

"Mrs. Malikov? Did you hear me?" Lauren asked. "Kenzi is due to graduate in a few months, and she just dropped out of all her classes. Is there something going on at home that may have happened to make her suddenly change her mind?"

"Why the hell are you asking _me_?" the woman asked, still laughing hysterically.

Lauren frowned even deeper. "This is the Malikov residence, is it not?"

"Ahh, well… _Kenzi_ hasn't been here in months. Ran off with that little shit-stirring cousin of hers, so God only knows what kind of mess they've gotten themselves into."

There was something out of place with this entire exchange. The student directory wasn't necessarily updated every year, unless the changes were volunteered by the student. But if Kenzi hadn't been living at this residence at the start of the school year, she would have needed another permanent address to register for her classes. And it still didn't explain why her mother was so giddy at the mention of Kenzi's dropping out. Kenzi was never Lauren's favorite student in class, by any means, but she would never have wished for her to live with someone like that.

"Aren't you the least bit concerned that your daughter might not graduate in the spring?" Lauren asked.

"Are you her teacher or something?"

"She's been in my class before, yes."

"Then just be grateful that you don't have to put up with her again," Mrs. Malikov sneered. "It's a liberating experience, trust me."

Lauren ignored the snide remark. "Do you know where I can find her?"

"Beats the shit out of me, blondie." Mrs. Malikov rolled her eyes. "Wherever you find Anton, you'll find Kenzi, but he's even worse off than she is. Nobody's heard from him in at least a couple of years, thankfully."

The name piqued Lauren's interest, though she was careful not to betray any emotions. She'd heard the name Anton Malikov recently, and it wasn't in conjunction with anything pleasant. However, it didn't seem as if Kenzi's mother was aware of it yet. Lauren forced her lips to form a fake smile.

"Thank you, Mrs. Malikov."

"Hmm," was the woman's only reply before she staggered back inside and slammed the door in Lauren's face. The sound of the locks clicking afterward snapped her from her trance.

As Lauren sat in the car again, her mind started reeling. Kenzi had been living at a different address since the beginning of this term, and if she'd registered while at the new address there was only one place where she could get the information she need. She dialed the number quickly, hoping that it wasn't too late to get an answer.

"Hello?" answered the voice on the other line after the second ring.

"Hello, Martha? It's Lauren Lewis." The other woman gushed with enthusiasm once she realized she was talking to Lauren, so much so that Lauren had to cut her off. "I'm in a bit of a rush, Martha. Could you tell me the official address on file for Kenzi Malikov?"

"Mrs. Lewis, I'm not sure that's such a good idea…"

"Please, Martha," Lauren pleaded. "I'm concerned about her wellbeing, and I just want to make sure she's all right."

There was a lengthy pause as Martha seemed to weigh her options. Lauren waited patiently, not even realizing that she was holding her breath while the school secretary deliberated. Eventually, Martha did end up giving her the address. Lauren thanked her immensely before driving out the location on the edge of town.

It was a shady part of the city, to say the least, a far cry from the regular and safe looking suburbs where Lauren lived. The house Lauren stood in front of now didn't look like it was safe for anyone to inhabit. The run down building looked more suitable for a wrecking ball than a couple of young tenants, especially with the barbed wire fencing around the perimeter. Lauren approached the door cautiously, wary of any signs of trouble as she walked up. Nobody disturbed her, so she took a deep breath and knocked several times on the beat up door.

Lauren waited for what felt like ages before she finally heard movement on the other side. The door eased open slowly, and she recognized Kenzi's black hair as she emerged from behind it. Other than the hair, the figure behind the door barely resembled Kenzi at all. Her eyes were sunken and puffy, as if she'd been crying all day, and she was deathly pale, even more so than usual. The usually stylish girl looked nothing short of a mess at the moment.

"What do you want?" Kenzi mumbled in a raspy voice.

"May I come in?" Lauren asked gently. "I'd like to speak with you."

Kenzi didn't open the door any further to allow Lauren entrance, but she didn't immediately turn her away either. She was clearly distracted by something else going on, and Lauren felt she had a good idea as to what it was.

"I understand that you've had a loss recently. Was Anton Malikov your cousin?" Lauren asked after several moments of silence.

A flash of fresh pain crossed over Kenzi's features at the name. Lauren opened her mouth to apologize, but before the words got out, the young girl had already opened the door wider, as if to allow her guest inside.

"Come in," Kenzi mumbled.

The girl turned away, facing her back to her teacher as she retreated into the house. Lauren stood stunned for a moment in the doorway. She'd been expecting more of a protest from Kenzi at her arrival, though from the looks of it, Kenzi appeared to desperately need company at the moment. She took a few tentative steps inside after her, quietly cringing at the state of the inside of the house.

There were boards over nearly all the windows, and entire pieces of wall were missing. Over the sections of wall that remained, paint was peeling and wallpaper was stripped. It appeared just as worn and rough as the outside, if not more so. Lauren shuddered at the mere thought of someone actually living in this place.

"Why are you even here?" Kenzi choked out. "I mean, it's not like you can give me detention anymore, so I don't really know what it is that you're after."

Lauren ignored the jab, knowing that Kenzi was merely lashing out because she was hurt. "You and your cousin must have been close," Lauren said in a kind voice. "I'm sorry for your loss."

Kenzi's expression hardened. "You don't know anything about him."

"You're right. I don't know much at all. I came because I was worried about how you were doing."

Kenzi flung herself down on the worn red couch in the living room (or what _appeared_ to be the living room). She kicked her feet up on the beaten up coffee table and said: "So why would you be worried about how I was doing?"

"I heard that you decided to drop out today."

Kenzi narrowed her reddened eyes at Lauren. "Not that it's any of your business, but yes. I decided to drop out. Somebody alert the press, please." She rolled her eyes after the sarcastic remark.

Lauren showed herself to the armchair next to the couch, and for her own peace of mind, she didn't pause to think about how dirty the surface was. "You're so close to graduating," Lauren implored her. "Don't you think it'd be a shame to give up this late in the game? You're nearly there anyway — what's a few more months?"

"Trying to save me from making the biggest mistake of my life?" Kenzi scoffed.

"I just want to make sure you know exactly what it is that you're doing. You're one of the most clever students I've ever had Kenzi, even if you don't put forth a lot of effort. I have no doubt that you could figure out a way to make a living after you dropped out, but I think you owe it to yourself to have every option available to you. You don't want to find yourself in a situation ten, twenty years from now in a dead end situation wishing things had gone differently — that you had chosen differently now."

"Well Mrs. Lewis, that's one thing you don't have to worry about. I already know how I'm going to be making my living now that I've left, and it's going to pay a hell of a lot better than flipping burgers down at O'Malley's."

It took Lauren a moment to read between the lines of Kenzi's comment. With rare exceptions, Lauren always assumed that people had the purest intentions. But she was too intelligent not to realize what was being said now; when she realized what Kenzi was referring to, her eyes grew wide.

"Kenzi, if you're planning on stepping into your cousin's footsteps, I really don't think —"

"But nobody asked you what you thought, Mrs. Lewis," Kenzi interrupted. "You invited yourself here, not me."

"Kenzi, please listen to me," Lauren implored her. "Your cousin got involved with the wrong people, and look at how things ended up for him. The police aren't dumb. They're going to be watching people that knew him closely now, and that includes you. If you do something out of turn, they'll know about it. They may _already_ know about it."

"I'm smarter than you give me credit for. Always have been."

Lauren shook her head in resignation. If Kenzi was determined to go through with whatever plan she was hatching, there wasn't much more that Lauren could do about it. She may have been easily the most clever, but she was also one of the most stubborn Lauren had ever taught during her tenure at the high school. Continuing to speak with her wouldn't yield any results. It would only be a waste of Lauren's time. She could only hope that at least _some_ of her message resonated with her former student before she did something incredibly foolish. Lauren stood up from the couch and headed back toward the door, turning to give Kenzi one more glance before she left.

"For your sake, Kenzi," Lauren said, "I just hope that's enough to keep you out of harm's way."

* * *

Dyson dawdled much longer that was necessary at the precinct. So long, in fact, that the sun was nearly setting by the time he'd made it to the labs across the street. By this time, all the preliminary evidence should have been completed: fingerprints, thread analysis, and blood spatter analysis being amongst the ones he was most interested in.

Dyson was hoping to avoid having to see anyone else tonight. The labs were a great place to be alone and just think, but as his luck would have it that wouldn't be the case. He spotted Hale the second he pushed the door open, and his partner gave him a single nod of acknowledgment. He was already busy pouring over the evidence bagged from the scene, but his whistling never wavered for a moment while Dyson walked around to his side. In the lab's dim ambient lighting, it was difficult to see Hale's face clearly, though the spotlights on the evidence table were exceptionally bright.

The whistling stopped, and Hale quit glancing through the papers found in Anton's apartment. They were all pretty much junk — receipts and old instruction manuals mostly — yet Hale was scouring all of them to see if he could find something on them that would help them piece together what their victim had been doing earlier in the day (other than cooking meth).

"You know, being a cop, I typically don't think about it much… But laws are weird sometimes," Hale mused. "Did you know adultery is still technically illegal in twenty-three states?"

Dyson rolled his eyes. "Jesus Hale, it's not like I slept with her!"

"Yet."

"Hale, don't start."

Hale shook his head at his best friend. "Nah Dyson, listen to me for a second. I know you're still messed up over things ending between you and Ciara, but when I told you to get back on the horse, that's not what I hadin mind. I was talking about someone _actually_ available."

Dyson sighed. "Nothing else happened."

"That my point though," Hale said exasperatedly. "What are you doing, man? Yeah, you only kissed her — on live television — but what were you even doing when you knew she was married in the first place? What the hell did you think was gonna happen after that?!"

Dyson finally met his best friend's eyes. Hale's parents split years back because his father cheated on his mother, and it tore their family apart. Dyson remembered how badly it hurt Hale back when they were in high school together. He didn't talk about it much anymore, but Dyson could tell what he did today upset his friend.

"I'm sorry," Dyson said. His voice was softer, only audible because they were in a silent room. "It's just… I like her, Hale. It's been a while since I've felt that way about anyone. Not since Ciara."

Hale gave him a pointed look. "If you _really_ like her, you'll leave her alone. Trust me."

It would be difficult to leave Bo alone, Dyson knew. He couldn't control the way he felt, and with as much time as he'd spent with her recently, he'd assumed she felt the same way. Her marriage was definitely an obstacle to them being together, but he thought that with time — and if the circumstances were right — he and Bo could find a way to be work themselves out. He simply pressed too soon.

He'd heard Bo talk enough about her personal problems to know that there were ongoing issues in her relationship at home. With time, she might come to realize that he was the better prospect, long term.

"Fine," Dyson replied.

He was more than willing to wait.


	6. Desperate Times

Despite only getting four hours of sleep Friday night, Bo was wide awake early Saturday morning. She awoke even earlier than Lauren, who typically was the first one up on a regular day, especially so on the weekends. Bo couldn't help it though. Today was going to be her day; she could feel it.

She'd already set up the logistical aspects of her plan. As Bo expected, Pietra agreed to join her at the park this afternoon. Her star student would be the ideal person to make an appearance at the playground. Not only had she been the one to technically make the purchase, but if they caught sight of someone they knew to be a substitute, the entire plan would go up in flames. Bo had to make herself invisible while Pietra picked up what Bo only hoped were drugs. The best place for her to hide out would be her usual place behind the trees. After she sent Pietra out of the car, all bets would be off.

Bo hoped more than anything she could solve this problem for Lauren. Even when she was bartending, she wasn't making much money. She wasn't getting a regular salary as a P.I., but when she cashed in on her cases, it was typically a large payday. When she put this one to rest, it would give her and Lauren enough to overcome the immediate bill that was due in a few weeks. It had been an enormous source of worry for the two of them over the past week, and it would provide them with a huge sense of relief when they addressed it.

Bo didn't even realize that she was subconsciously stroking Lauren's arm in top of the covers as she was curled up beside her. Bo only noticed when her own movements stopped. The blonde took a deep breath and stretched her body out. Those were the familiar signs that she was beginning to wake up. Her light brown eyes fluttered open, and she smiled slightly when she saw Bo already awake and gazing at her.

"It's not polite to stare, you know," Lauren mumbled.

"I can't help it." Bo smiled and leaned forward to kiss the tip of her wife's nose.

"I'm sure you could if you _really_ wanted to."

"But I don't want to."

It was mornings like these that Bo always loved. There were no work obligations and there was no distance between the two of them. Bo unfortunately couldn't afford to stay in bed all day, but for the morning, Lauren was hers alone. She smirked and reached her hand beneath the covers, running it down the length of Lauren's bare abdomen. The blonde's eyes closed at the sensation, and Bo was nearly at her destination when her wife's voice distracted her from the task at hand.

"We need to go by my mom's house today," Lauren said. "She's been asking about you — I'm pretty sure that she misses you, Bo."

Bo felt like her entire body had just been dipped into a bucket of ice water. It wasn't as if she didn't love Janine — she did love the woman — but Bo was in the middle of something _very_ important with her daughter that she didn't want to postpone. Unfortunately, there wasn't going to be a chance for them to stop by later since Bo would be busy, so if they were going to visit, they had to go in the morning. Lauren seemed to realize the damper that her words put on Bo's mood; the brunette was practically pouting again. She reached up to place cup the side of Bo's face in her hands, offering Bo a reassuring smile.

"We'll pick up right where we left off — but later okay?" Lauren said. "How about after you get back from your job later?"

Lauren knew roughly that Bo was planning to close her case tonight. However, she wasn't privy to the details of who the suspect was or where the encounter was taking place. Hopefully, Bo wouldn't have to keep those details from her much longer.

"I'm gonna hold you to that," Bo said, giving Lauren's hips a quick squeeze. She watched wistfully as Lauren rolled out of bed and began to clothe herself. With each passing second, more of her wife's body became covered up until the only parts exposed were her arms and the triangle of skin at the base of her neck that her t-shirt left open. "Have you heard anything back from the insurance company?" Bo asked as she was fastening her necklace in place. Lauren's hands stilled for a moment. It was almost imperceptible, but Bo noticed.

"They called yesterday right after school let out."

"And?" Bo sat up in bed, propping herself up on one elbow while using the other arm to hold the sheets secure around her chest.

"I talked with them for over an hour, and there's still no change," Lauren sighed. "They'll cover the cost of the hospital stay, but they won't expand the policy to cover the medication. That part will still be out of pocket."

They received a letter from their local hospital last week stating that they'd been approved for the procedure by Dr. Everett. All that was left for them to do was scheduling, and they'd deferred handling that until they'd negotiated with the insurance company. It had taken hours at first to even get anyone on the phone, and even then, they faced an additional delay as the question had to be further escalated up the company's management. When they called Lauren back, they guaranteed that they would come to a final decision. Lauren collected every bit of evidence she could find on the treatments with Bo's help, but apparently, none of it was enough. They still wouldn't cover it.

"Did they say why?" Bo asked.

Lauren looked pointedly at the floor, straightening out the thin chain around her neck. "They said it was because it wasn't specifically FDA-labeled for the treatment of multiple sclerosis."

"Did you tell them that she's stopped responding to everything else?"

"Of course I did, Bo," Lauren said exasperatedly. "I told them everything she's taken, and how she's been reclassified as secondary progressive rather than relapsing-remitting. That doesn't matter though. The insurance companies don't care about that. They have their specific rules, and there's no amount of arguing either one of us could do that would change their minds." Lauren sighed deeply. "Trust me, Bo — I tried."

It was a last ditch effort, Bo knew. She secretly hoped that once the more senior staff at the insurance company heard how these treatments were the only option Janine had left, that they might accommodate their situation better. But that wasn't the case. Lauren may as well have argued with a brick wall for all the good it did.

"I know you did, babe," Bo said, trying to suffuse her voice with as much support as she could muster — heavens knew Lauren needed it. "Has she been scheduled yet?"

Lauren nodded. "She's due to start the treatments at the end of this week."

It seemed so soon. Bo knew that the earlier that Janine began the new treatments, the better off she'd be, but she wished that there was more time to prepare financially. As it was, she and Lauren still hadn't devised another plan to adapt to the increased financial burden. The bills wouldn't be processed by the hospital for another couple of months in all likelihood, but they would need to put some significant cash aside quickly before they started arriving. Most of Bo's bonus would be put toward the already existing balance that was due in a few weeks. There would still be a little left after that, but it wouldn't make much of a dent in the bills they'd be getting in the future.

"We'll figure it out, hon," Bo said, offering Lauren her most reassuring smile. She peeled the covers back off her body, internally high-fiving herself when she saw how Lauren's eyes raked over her unclothed body. She climbed out of bed and sauntered over to where Lauren was standing speechless. "Let's just get today out of the way, okay?" Bo asked, pressing a chaste kiss against her cheek.

Lauren nodded, and her face blushed red. "Okay."

* * *

Janine must have heard two sets of footsteps on her tile floors when Bo and Lauren stepped inside the entryway. There was no other way that she could have known that both her daughter and her daughter-in-law were present. She called out to both of them from the living room, where she sat comfortably in her reclining chair.

"Hey, Janine," Bo smiled at her mother-in-law.

"Isabeau, sweetheart! Come here!" Janine waved her forward with her left hand. "I haven't seen you in ages!"

Janine sat upright as best she could, and Bo leaned down to pull the older woman into an embrace. She was even thinner than she had been the last time Bo was here. The realization made Bo feel guilty about not being present more often, but those negative thoughts were quickly removed by the firm squeeze of Janine's good arm around her neck. The right arm fell limply against Bo's shoulder and simply rubbed back and forth. Despite the positioning, it was as warm and heartfelt a hug as Bo had felt in quite some time. Janine quickly pressed a kiss against the side of Bo's cheek as she pulled away, reclining once again in her seat. The action seemed to have sapped a considerable amount of her energy.

"How are you feeling?" Bo asked.

"Let me take a quick nap, and I think I'll feel like dancing," Janine joked with her before turning her attention to her daughter. "Lauren, honey — you haven't said much. Are you all right?"

Lauren was simply watching her mother and Bo with a barely perceptible smile on her face. Bo saw it clearly, but Janine's eyesight wasn't as sharp; there was a decent chance that she didn't notice. Lauren's facial expressions were occasionally hard to read, Bo knew from experience, but she was so in tune with them that hardly anything got past her anymore. She could almost always tell when Lauren was sad, angry, or disappointed. However, the barely there grin that she was sporting now was one of pure contentment.

"I'm fine, mum," Lauren answered. She dipped her head down in an embarrassed gesture, making several strands of long blonde hair fall forward around her face. "I'm going to get your injection ready. I'll let you two catch up for a bit."

"All right, dear." Janine said. Lauren gave Bo a grin as she disappeared around the corner, and Bo couldn't help but return it as she took up a seat next to Janine. Bo's mother-in-law gave her a curious look for a moment. "I see you two are doing much better."

Her voice carried a knowing tone, and Bo knew she wasn't discussing her and Lauren's physical well being. Bo also knew that Janine probably wouldn't have mentioned it if Lauren were present. These kinds of talks she tended to reserve for Bo only, and her smirk let the brunette know that she was secretly pleased by what she saw.

Bo nodded in agreement. "We've gotten a few things straightened out recently."

"I'm glad to hear it. I was worried about the two of you for a while." Her light brown eyes were kind, but there still was a hint of concern behind them.

Bo didn't want to think about how much they'd let their relationship fall by the wayside if even Lauren's mother noticed their troubles. Janine was a perceptive woman, but neither her nor Lauren saw her every day. With their busy schedules, they didn't even visit together that often anymore (today being an exception).

"I was kind of worried about us too — like maybe we'd forgotten how we used to feel," Bo admitted, though she hadn't intended to say it out loud.

As soon as she heard the words leave her own mouth, her eyes darted to Janine's in worry. That definitely wasn't the type of admission that one should be making to their in-laws. Thankfully, Lauren's mother didn't seem bothered by it. Her look was one of understanding.

"It gets hard sometimes," Janine said matter-of-factly. "But that's not always about the people we love — sometimes that's just _life_ getting in the way. Before Jack passed, we had our share of problems to deal with too. It's not just you, Bo. It happens to anyone in a serious relationship at some point. The trick is to not forget where the real problems are. Don't let outside issues make you forget who you love or why you love them."

Bo smiled at Janine's advice. "I'll keep that in mind."

"You should. It's fantastic advice… I gave it, after all," Janine deadpanned, causing Bo to chuckle. "In all seriousness, I wouldn't be worried about Lauren not loving you." She put a thin hand on top of Bo's. "That girl would quite literally do _anything_ for you… You know that, right?"

Bo had to look down to hide her blush. As odd as it was to have this conversation with her mother-in-law, somehow it didn't seem uncomfortable with Janine. She was perceptive in ways that most people tended to overlook.

"You think so?" Bo asked.

"I _do_ happen to know a thing or two about my own daughter."

Lauren had impeccable timing, as always. She chose that moment to return, a preloaded syringe tucked into one hand and the rest of the injection kit in the other. "What is it that you know about me, mum?" she asked, moving to stand in front of her mother and Bo.

"Everything, dear."

"Hmm." Lauren paused. "Well for your own sake, I should certainly hope not." She shot Bo a mischievous look that let her know _precisely_ what she was talking about, and Bo's stomach did flips in response. Bo didn't even realize her jaw was hanging open until Lauren started chuckling at her. "So where do you want the shot today?" Lauren asked her mom seriously. "Arm, thigh, or butt?"

"Thigh, please."

It was the spot where Janine usually requested her injections, mostly because she was already fairly numb over her legs anyway. She didn't feel the sting as strongly as she did anywhere else. But sometimes after several weeks of getting her injections in the same spot, her legs did often get sore despite the overlying numbness. On those occasions, she had to endure them elsewhere for a while until her legs healed sufficiently.

"You're going to have to move the pants, mum," Lauren told her. "I can't give you your injection through the fabric."

Janine seemed to debate whether or not it was worth it to attempt to move. Most people would have just reactively pulled the waistband of their pants down to expose the skin, but for her, the weakness made it must more difficult.

"Nevermind then, the arm is fine."

Lauren stepped over to her mother's side opposite Bo to do her task. She'd done it many times over the years, and now her movements were so practiced that she could probably do them in her sleep. Bo watched as she cleaned the site and swiftly attached the needle. Janine winced as it broke her skin, but in mere seconds, Lauren finished and had the needle recapped and disposed of.

"I hate those things," Janine mumbled, massaging her arm once Lauren finished putting on the bandage.

"Well, it's officially your last one. Next week you start your new treatments up at the hospital," Lauren said.

"Thank heavens for small miracles."

Lauren bit her lip, clearly holding herself back from whatever it was she'd been about to say. She glanced to Bo, who was giving her a curious expression. "What time did you have to leave, Bo?"

Bo hadn't been keeping track of time since they left the house this morning. The pick up at the park wasn't until later, but she had some last minute plans to take care of before then — not to mention, she had to pick up her hired assistant for the task. Bo stole a quick look at the clock hanging on the wall and was surprised how quickly time had flown by.

"About five minutes ago," Bo answered, looking back to Lauren and Janine. "I'm sorry, Lo. I didn't realize how much time had passed."

Lauren smiled easily at her. "It's fine Bo. I've still got plenty to do around here." She stood up and walked around to the other side of the recliner where Bo was seated, bending down to press a brief kiss against her temple. "I'll be waiting for you at home whenever you get back."

"Can we uhh — you know — _celebrate_ later once I get finished with the case?" Bo tried to get her true meaning across without giving too much away in Janine's presence. The way Lauren's cheeks flushed red let Bo know that her wife comprehended her meaning exactly.

Lauren had to clear her throat before she spoke again. "Of course."

"Don't let it be so long before I see you again, Bo," Janine said as Bo stood up next to her. Bo collected her bag from the floor and hoisted it onto her shoulder.

"Don't worry, Mom. I won't," Bo smiled at her before leaning forward to wrap her into an embrace. The brunette's head rested on top of the older woman's shoulders, and she whispered softly into her ear: "Thank you." Janine didn't say anything, but she gave Bo a light squeeze in response before allowing her to pull away. She turned around to have Lauren standing nearly toe to toe with her. "One more for good luck?" Bo asked her.

Lauren lifted her hand to lightly grasp Bo's chin with her thumb and index finger, leaning forward slowly to press her lips against Bo's. She held them there much longer than a peck, though neither of them attempted to deepen the kiss at all. Bo felt all the love and reassurance her wife put into it. Even though there was not much heat behind it, it was perfect.

"You don't need it though," Lauren said, holding Bo's gaze.

She may not have _needed_ it, but that didn't mean that Bo didn't want it or appreciate it. As she saw the look in Lauren's eyes, Bo was stuck by a thought: _Nothing had ever felt more right_.

* * *

Pietra was upholding Bo's request for secrecy, and she complied completely when Bo asked her to meet outside on a text message. Bo was hoping to avoid any awkward explanations with the girl's parents if they noticed that their daughter was running around with someone much older — much less someone who was a substitute at the school. That probably wouldn't be Bo's calling anymore, not after today, but that would still be how Pietra related to her.

It astounded Bo how Pietra always had so much energy, and as Bo found out when she picked her up at her house, it wasn't only limited to when she was at school. Pietra practically skipped out her front door to meet Bo at her yellow Camaro, hopping inside the car excitedly.

"Hello, Mrs. Dennis!" Pietra greeted, fastening her seat belt. "Where are we going again?"

"We're going to the park, Pietra," Bo answered. "I need your help picking something up. It's for work."

It amazed Bo how naive Pietra continued to be throughout the entire process. Each time Bo asked her something, she was convinced that it would send up red flags to her student, but Pietra seemed pleasantly oblivious to all of it. As studious as she was in every other aspect of her life, she didn't seem to care that much that she didn't know what was going on now. Bo initially assumed that Pietra would do some research on her own to find out what Bo was referring to; after all, it wasn't as if her descriptions were veiled. Pietra could have easily figured out Bo's ploy for herself if she were so inclined. She didn't though, as far as Bo could tell, and if she did know, she did an amazing portrayal of ignorance.

The girl was chatty the entire time. It was the longest Bo had ever spent in her presence, and she just never shut off. She wondered if she was like this even in tutoring because if she was, Lauren would have probably struggled to get in two words during their after school sessions. Lauren did mention in passing that Pietra was doing better now that she'd changed her approach, so maybe the girl was just like that with Bo, or perhaps she was extra keyed up with the change in environment. She only grew silent when Bo slowed the car and parked it in her designated spot behind the trees. There was a narrow gap between the trunks at eye level where Bo could peer through to the playground. She could easily see where Kenzi and Ryan were swinging idly on the swing set and Bruce was standing nearby, kicking around the sand with his feet.

"You remember what to do?" Bo asked. Pietra nodded in response, looking out the window to see her classmates for herself. She took a deep breath before pushing the car door open and climbing out. "Pietra?" Bo called out before she closed the door. The girl paused, poking her head back into the passenger's side. "Thank you… and good luck."

"Thanks, Mrs. Dennis." Pietra's smile got wide again, and any remaining vestiges of nervousness melted away. She shut the door behind her and began the long trek up the sidewalk to the playground.

If Pietra was having any misgivings, she didn't betray anything on the way to the playground. Bo watched intently from her seat, ready to intervene at the first sign of something going awry, but Pietra marched on confidently the entire way. Bo didn't even realize she was holding her breath until her lungs started to burn from the lack of air.

When Pietra arrived at the swing sets, she stood a comfortable distance away from the other kids. Something was being said, Bo was sure, but she had no idea what. She relaxed a little only after Kenzi motioned for Pietra to sit next to her on the swings. It felt as if Pietra was sitting there for hours, but in reality, it was only fifteen minutes. Eventually though, Pietra stood up and smoothed down the front of her skirt and walked away. It was a dance Bo had seen many times before, but she never saw Pietra take anything from them.

Bo frowned as Pietra made her way back to the sidewalk. If she was coming back to the car now, she would have been empty handed, and Bo couldn't help the profound sense of disappointment she felt at that prospect. That all changed when Pietra suddenly veered off course and headed down another path. It was just past Kenzi's lookouts, and Bo sat up straight in her seat to see where she was going. She stopped next to a trash bin before bending down as if to adjust her shoe. Bo couldn't see what she was doing from her angle, but when she stood back up, there was something clutched tightly in her hand.

_Could that have really been it?_ Bo thought with a growing sense of triumph. She made the sales at school then negotiated the handoffs in a public location where cops weren't likely to hang around for extended periods of time. The drugs didn't even get passed directly from hand to hand, and the lookouts kept a close watch on the product sold. Kenzi and her friends were so far removed from the distribution process that a casual onlooker wouldn't have necessarily spotted what was going on, though they might suspect some shady activity, as Bo originally had done.

Bo was smiling extra widely when Pietra opened the car door again. The young student climbed inside and held out her hand to Bo. There was a folded envelope inside that appeared to have something bulky inside it. The seal of the envelope was still intact, so Pietra obviously hadn't opened it.

"For you," Pietra said cheerily.

Bo grasped the edge of the envelope reverently. Once the evidence cleared the precinct's labs, she would have enough to request her warrant. This was her ticket to a much needed payday, and the ramifications of what that entailed for her personal life were not lost on her.

"Thank you Pietra," Bo said softly. "Thank you so much."

On the journey back to Pietra's house, Bo felt obligated to indulge the girl in her meaningless conversations. They barely shared any common hobbies, though Bo made sure to ask the appropriate questions that at least demonstrated a polite interest in what she had to say. Pietra loved the attention she got from Bo, and if the brunette didn't know any better, she would have said that perhaps Pietra was beginning to like her just as much as she did Lauren. She was just hoping that the student would actually leave when Bo dropped her off at her house again. She did, thankfully.

Once she was safely inside, Bo pulled the standard sized envelope into her lap. She gently tore away the seal and peeked inside, spotting a tiny plastic bag of clear crystals tucked in the folds. Bo never knew that the sight of drugs could make her so happy. She drove as fast as she could back to the precinct, where she was absolutely giddy to hand off her findings. She strutted inside with a spring in her step, and pretty much every cop in the place noticed. Hale gave her a shocked look when she arrived.

"Bo?" He asked. There were papers strewn all over his desk, and he set his pen down on top of the pile. "I didn't expect to see you here on a Saturday. What's going on, girl?"

Bo pulled the envelope from her pocket and tossed it on Hale's desk. He picked up curiously and glanced inside, his eyes growing wide in shock once he registered its contents. He whistled loudly, a signal of just how surprised he actually was.

"I think my case is closed, huh?" Bo grinned.

"Certainly looks that way, lil' mama."

"The prints I'm looking for won't be in the system, but I have some for comparison that have already been dropped off at the lab," Bo said. "I'm ninety-nine percent sure they're going to match the ones on the bag, and if they do, I could have a warrant by tomorrow."

"Sounds like you're all over it." Hale grinned widely, and making Bo match his expression in return. "I'll drop this off at the labs in a little bit and have Dr. Calvo do the full workup. She should have everything in her report by tomorrow morning." Hale pulled out an official evidence bag from his desk drawer and placed the envelope inside. "Congratulations, Bo."

Somehow, hearing the congratulations made it all official. In reality, nothing had changed in the past few minutes, yet Bo's perspective on it had shifted completely. She'd been elated before, but there was a sense of finality that was only now starting to register. She'd done it. Bo had pulled through and solved her case when she and Lauren desperately needed the boost. That feeling of accomplishment was more satisfying than any she got from the investigation itself.

It was definitely a cause for celebration. Bo had all sorts of plans in mind, mostly involving her and Lauren in various stages of undress, but she figured that her wife would insist on a little more pomp than Bo's plan would provide. Bo didn't want to waste much time moving along to her own plans; she just hoped that a bottle of champagne would suffice for Lauren because for Bo, it was completely unnecessary. Bo's elation had her smile a mile wide, and she was so distracted as she was walking out of the precinct that she nearly stumbled into one of the other cops on the job.

It was enough to extinguish Bo's excitement when she glanced up to see a familiar curly-haired detective standing in front of her. Bo's smile disappeared, and she reflexively put more distance between the two of them. There was a moment of painfully awkward silence between them. Neither of them would forget what happened during their last encounter. However, Dyson remembered it with a strange mix of fondness and shame, and Bo only recalled being filled with an implacable rage.

"Hey, Bo," Dyson said with difficulty. There was a pained edge to his voice that Bo didn't miss, but she couldn't bring herself to feel sorry for him — not after how he acted.

"Hi." Bo's tone was short and clipped, betraying no emotion whatsoever.

"How are you?"

"Fine."

"And your case?"

"Good."

Bo's one word answers were frustrating him, she could tell. At least he had the good sense not to mention it, however. If he'd complained at all, Bo was liable to tear into him into little pieces and leave him outside for the vultures.

Dyson lowered his voice so low that only Bo could hear him and said: "Look… I know I said it before, but I _am_ sorry — and I hope that you can forgive me at some point. I'd like for us to stay friends though, you know… still talk to each other even after I leave."

"You're leaving?" Bo couldn't help the question she blurted. She'd been doing so well with her terse responses, but she hadn't expected that tidbit of information. She quickly quashed down her curiosity, but unfortunately, she'd already asked her question.

"The DEA called me yesterday. I got the job," he announced in a surprisingly nonchalant tone. "I start orientation at the end of the month, so I've put in my two weeks notice here at the precinct."

The news wasn't all that surprising, but the look Dyson had was searching for some sort of reaction from Bo — sorrow at the thought of seeing him go, or an overwhelming happiness for his accomplishment. Bo really wasn't feeling like giving either response.

"Huh," Bo mused. "Well, congrats I guess."

Dyson's face fell at Bo's lackluster response. "Thanks," he muttered.

There was another awkward pause as they stood facing each other. The distance Bo put between them only highlighted the discomfort both of them were feeling. But Dyson was trying to slowly inch his way forward while Bo kept retreating more.

"I have to go home," Bo said, once she grew tired of the uncomfortable posturing between the two of them. "My wife and I are celebrating me finishing the case tonight."

She looked past Dyson and toward the exit, trying to avoid the his morose glances. If it hadn't been for the holdup with him in the middle of the precinct, Bo would have already been in the car on her way home. She stepped to the side to walk around his broad shoulders, which seemed even wider now that they were in Bo's way.

"I'm sorry again," Dyson said as Bo walked by him. "Can we talk sometime — maybe clear the air between us?"

Bo paused in her steps, but she didn't fully turn her head to look at him. "I don't know, Dyson. What you did messed things up, and I can't tell you for sure when I'm going to be able to look past that. I'll try… But I can't make you any guarantees."

Dyson seemed mollified by Bo's half promise of a future talk between them. Bo didn't much care if it happened either way, but if it managed to reduce some of the workplace unpleasantness, then so be it. Bo always enjoyed having friends. She just hated it when "friends" betrayed her trust the way Dyson did. If he could demonstrate that he truly understood Bo's wishes, then _maybe_ they could have another attempt at friendship. But if it didn't work out, Bo wouldn't lose any sleep over it.

The only way Bo _wanted_ to lose sleep at the moment was with Lauren, who was waiting for her at home. The thought made Bo's dazzling smile come back in full force, and the bounce came back in her step as she hurried out to her car. Dyson might have said something behind her as she left, but if he did, Bo didn't hear it. She was far too distracted by her pleasant thoughts.

* * *

Bo wished she could wake up just like this every morning.

At some point amidst the sex marathon last night, she and Lauren mutually came to the conclusion that they were too exhausted to continue. Bo actually lost count of how many times they'd each climaxed. Perhaps it was just the usual haze that Lauren tended to put over her mind, or perhaps Lauren had literally sexed her senseless. Whichever it was, Bo certainly didn't mind at all.

Lauren's body was still draped on top of Bo's in exactly the same position as when they stopped hours ago. Neither of them had even budged; the blonde just tucked her head underneath Bo's chin and used her chest as a pillow all night. Her weight was a welcome feeling, even more so when Bo began to feel Lauren's hand dragging patterns up and down the side of her torso. Bo didn't know how long she'd been awake, simply lying there on top of her.

"You're going to spoil me, you know — waking me up like this in the mornings," Bo said in a hoarse voice. She closed her eyes and focused on the feather light touches traveling up and down her side.

"You're already spoiled."

Lauren tilted her head from where it was resting and pressed her lips against Bo's collar bone. Her sensitive skin was already overcharged from last night's activities, and when Lauren's tongue came into contact with it, Bo couldn't help but shudder at the touch. Her hands reflexively moved to Lauren, one hand reaching into her blonde hair and the other grabbing against her naked back. The feeling of Lauren's tongue was starting to make her slightly dizzy, even with her eyes shut tightly.

"Lauren, please," Bo gasped.

Lauren's tongue halted its movement against Bo's chest, and her hands stilled on Bo's torso. The sudden end to the pleasant sensations caused Bo's eyes to snap back open in alarm. There was an ache building up in her body that needed the contact Lauren was providing, and now that it was gone, the need was even more palpable.

"Please _what_?" Lauren smirked. So she was toying with Bo now. The brunette's eyes remained pleading, almost begging for Lauren to resume where she left off a moment ago. But instead of continuing, Lauren kept teasing Bo by withholding what she wanted most. "Please _what_, Bo?" Lauren repeated again after not receiving a response.

Bo let out a low growl and pressed her weight up hard, manipulating their bodies so that their positions were now flipped. This time, Bo was pressing Lauren down into the bed with each arm at Lauren's side, forming a sort of cage that she couldn't wriggle out of. Lauren looked up at Bo with amusement.

"You know, all you had to do was ask," Lauren chuckled. She reached up with both hands to tangle her fingers into Bo's tousled hair.

"You were taking too long."

As if to emphasize her point, Bo threw one of her legs over Lauren's to straddle her thigh. She wasted no time in pushing herself down against Lauren's muscular thigh, and the blonde seemed to finally recognize just how serious Bo was being. She pressed back with her wife's downward movements, helping her to gain more friction.

"You know," Lauren mused though shortened breaths, "after last night's marathon, I didn't think I'd get lucky again so soon."

Bo surged forward to capture Lauren's lips with her own as she continued to grind on her. Their breasts were pushed against each other so that there was no space between them, so much so that Lauren didn't even notice that one of Bo's hands moved until she felt it graze the inside of her other thigh. She bit down on Bo's bottom lip at the unexpected contact, which only seemed to excite Bo more. Their kiss deepened further, and when Bo's fingers caressed the wetness between her legs, the blonde's short nails dug into the soft flesh beneath Bo's shoulder blades. The pressure that Lauren applied had to be enough to leave marks.

Lauren wasn't sure how long Bo had been working magic with her fingers. Her mind was fuzzy from her own arousal, but somewhere in the vaguest corners of her mind, she registered a sound that wasn't there seconds before. It took her a moment — she had to pull her mind away from how close Bo had taken her to the edge — but she eventually placed the shrill noise.

"Bo," Lauren gasped. "Your phone."

Bo didn't seem that impressed by the phone call; she completely ignored it. "They can call back later. We're busy."

It wasn't even twenty seconds later when the phone started ringing again. This time, they both heard it as soon as it rang the first tone. Bo groaned, stilling her movements. She didn't let Lauren out from beneath her, but she did stretch her arm out to reach for her blaring phone.

"It's the precinct," Bo said, frowning. "They must be done with the report."

"Is it important?"

Bo continued to stare at the lit up screen. "Hale said he'd have everything by this morning. I guess it might be."

Lauren squeezed Bo's lower back, making their bodies press more tightly together. "_How_ important?" Her hands drifted lower, dancing along the soft skin of Bo's backside.

Bo caught the gist of Lauren's question immediately. The phone grew silent again, and Bo smirked. "He loves to exaggerate."

Bo tossed the phone back on the nightstand and kissed Lauren again. Her fingers drifted down Lauren's abdomen to return to their previous task, but just as they arrived at their destination, the phone rang for a third time. Bo let out a frustrated huff. She grabbed at the phone more roughly this time, quickly raising it to her ear.

"What is it, Hale?" Bo snapped as soon as the call connected.

"Dr. Calvo wants you to meet her at the lab. She didn't say what it was, but it sounded pretty urgent." Hale answered.

"Can it wait? I'm kind of in the middle of something here."

"Dr. Calvo worked a night shift yesterday. She'd only going to be here for another couple of hours."

That wasn't what Bo wanted to hear — not at all. But if it pertained to her case, she really had an obligation to go. And from the sound of it, postponing the meeting wouldn't work. Lauren was playing with the stray locks of hair that were hanging over Bo's shoulders. Bo gave her an apologetic look.

"Fine," Bo said tersely. "I'll be there."

* * *

Bo had only been to the labs once when she was given her initial tour of the police facilities. It was located in a separate building, but it was easy enough to find with the clearly labeled signs directing her to where she needed to go. Bo's provisional badge allowed her access to the locked area, so she let herself inside. All the faces in the lab were familiar, but there was one more than she was expecting. Dyson was skulking in the corner, perusing through evidence from a separate bin. She ignored him, joining Hale and Dr. Calvo at the opposite end of the lab.

"Bo, it's nice to see you again," Dr. Calvo greeted politely.

"'Sup, Bo," Hale added as an afterthought.

"I'm doing fine, thank you" Bo answered. "I hear you have something for me?"

Dr. Calvo nodded, turning around to retrieve the familiar plastic evidence bag. In her other hand, she carried a thick file folder, which she set on the metal surface in front of her. The doctor beckoned Bo to come join her, and Bo complied, standing at her side. Hale took up the position at her other side and looked on as well.

"Firstly, the prints on the bag are a match. Now secondly, this obviously _appears_ to be methamphetamine" Dr. Calvo said. "So after you gave me this, I ran through standard lab protocol first." Her lips pressed into thin line.

"And?" Bo prompted.

"The Marquis test was negative. As were the cobalt thiocyanate, Dille-Koppanyi, van Urk, and Duquenois-Levine tests."

"Shit," Hale said.

"What does that mean?" Bo asked.

Hale shook his head. "It means it's not meth."

Dr. Calvo gave Bo a sympathetic look. "We start presumptive testing for the most common and most abusable drugs first, Bo. The Marquis test will show heroin and other opiates as well as amphetamines, and the others can identify cocaine, barbiturates, MDMA, and marijuana. You'd be surprised what drug engineers can solvate into a crystalloid these days. Naturally, since all initial testing came back negative, I had to perform further testing to identify the compounds involved. Many abused prescription drugs won't yield results on initial screens."

"What did you find?" Bo asked.

"I performed several spectrometry analyses, and I was able to identify the major compounds in your sample, with the exception of a few trace components. About ninety-nine percent of your sample if composed of sucrose, dextrose, and glycerin."

"That can't be right," Hale said, shaking his head.

Dr. Calvo glanced down at her reports, suddenly finding them extremely interesting. Bo didn't know the first thing about science. All this talk about compounds and chemicals didn't mean much to her. She always found it sexy to hear her wife talk about those things, but she couldn't say the same about anyone else. Now it was simply making her anxious.

"Will someone tell me what's going on in normal people terminology please?" Bo asked exasperatedly.

"It means someone knows you were onto them, and they're just fucking with you," Hale answered. "They dealt you rock candy." He grabbed the evidence bag and opened it up before popping a few of the crystals into his mouth and chewing them loudly. Dr. Calvo glared at him. "What? I haven't had anything to eat yet today."

Bo felt sick to her stomach. All of her work had been wasted, and Hale was literally shoveling everything she had to show for her efforts into his mouth. The realization of the situation's severity was slowly dawning on her, and she was finding it increasingly difficult to breathe.

"What about the case?" Bo breathed out.

"There is no case with _this_ as your evidence. And based on this, I'd say your suspect is well aware that you're onto them. That just makes them ten times harder to catch, and they're not going to let you try the same technique again. It's going to be even harder with you because you're already so limited by the laws."

A panic started to work its way into Bo. "What can I do?"

"Only thing there is left to do in cases like this," he shrugged. "It's back to square one."

Bo didn't have time to go back to square one and start her investigation from the beginning again. She and her wife had a huge bill that was due in twenty-two days. She'd never even considered an alternate plan because she'd been so sure of the outcome, especially not yesterday when Pietra returned with her envelope.

Bo's chest ached, and her hands started trembling as she thought of the implications of her not receiving her advance. Somehow, even professionally, she'd failed Lauren. Bo didn't care much about herself ending up in financial ruins, but the idea of Lauren losing everything, including the ability to take care of her own mother, caused her far too much pain. It was all Bo's fault, and perhaps if she'd been a little more experienced, a little more intelligent, she wouldn't have messed everything up so irreparably. The sting of failure caused Bo's eyes to burn, and it wasn't long before the tears started forming in response.

"I have to go," Bo managed to say with an even voice. She didn't have much time before the tears really started falling, and then her voice wouldn't be so steady. She didn't want to be anywhere near the precinct or its detectives when that happened.

Bo turned quickly on her heels, storming out of the lab. Nobody inside reacted quickly enough to stop her. Her tears didn't start spilling over until after she'd gotten outside and climbed back into her car. Thankfully, it was a Sunday morning and there weren't many cars in the lot because Bo's tears started to fall in earnest. The tears escalated to body wracking sobs. In the privacy of her own vehicle, Bo let herself go completely.

Part of her knew that it wasn't only because of her financial situation, though that probably comprised the most significant portion of her troubles. The other reason Bo was so distraught was because she'd failed _personally_. Being an investigator was Bo's dream, and at her first opportunity to break a huge case, she'd fallen short. It made Bo feel even more helpless than she already did.

Bo didn't keep track of how long she sat in her car. She didn't check the clock on her phone, and she didn't put the keys in the car ignition. It must have been a while though. The sun rose higher in the sky and shone so brightly through the windshield that the temperature inside the car started to get uncomfortably warm despite the cool weather outside. Eventually, her sobs reached the end of their natural course, and Bo was too numbed to feel much of anything anymore.

She was definitely safe to drive now. There wouldn't be anymore breakdowns en route to the house now that Bo had sufficiently cried out every overwhelming emotion from her body. There definitely would be more later, but for now, she would be fine. The delay in leaving now was purely by choice.

Bo just didn't know how she was going to face Lauren when she got home.

* * *

It had taken hours for Lauren to get Bo calmed down when she returned from the precinct. Her expression had been unreadable when she first stepped inside, but when Lauren asked her what was wrong… it turned into a disaster. Bo came completely undone in front of her and practically collapsed into a crying heap in Lauren's arms.

Lauren wasn't able to get more than two words out of her for the longest time. Bo was latched firmly onto her shoulders, and she kept on saying "sorry" over and over again. It was disturbing to Lauren, who had never seen her wife so upset before. She probably cried longer than was physically healthy, but Lauren held Bo against her body until she eventually stopped shaking.

At first, Lauren didn't know what to make of Bo's behavior. When she'd just come from the precinct, Lauren allowed her mind to venture to a worst-case scenario. Almost as a reflex, she pictured Bo and the other detective again. But Lauren could tell that her distress ran much deeper than that and she was right. When Bo finally did manage to tell her everything, she realized the weight Bo was feeling on herself. For her wife's benefit though, Lauren kept up a strong facade.

Even though it was far too early for a normal person to be going to sleep, Lauren tucked Bo into bed in the early afternoon. She'd exhausted herself both physically and emotionally. At Bo's request, Lauren laid next to her and held her until she fell asleep, though it only took five minutes before her breathing slowed and the hands holding Lauren's slackened and fell against the bed.

Except for the smudged makeup, Bo looked so peaceful that Lauren couldn't even tell she'd been crying a while ago by looking at her. She pushed the hair away from where it had fallen in Bo's face and leaned forward to kiss her forehead. Bo didn't once stir at the movement.

Now that Bo was asleep, Lauren was presented with a different, more practical problem. She had a hospital bill that was due soon, and they were already capped on the hospital's allowable payment plan balance. They would need to pay the full amount, or else they would be turned over to creditors. In actuality though, that was only the start of their problems. In worrying about the immediate financial concerns, they'd both neglected to address that their new regular expenditures would total in one month what Lauren made in a single year. It wasn't a feasible way to live, and they'd been pulling from their savings for long enough that their money was just about gone from that account as well.

To complicate matters, Lauren learned from her bank that she and Bo didn't even own a good enough credit score to qualify for a loan to cover the immediate bill. Following that, one phone call to the school district was all it took for her to be denied a salary advance. Each and every idea that Lauren came up with was shot down. Nobody that she knew personally (other than Taft — which was out of the question) had that kind of money on hand to lend her.

… But was that really true though?

The mind was a crazy thing sometimes, but it seemed an odd moment to remember the pile of cash Kenzi spilled all over her classroom floor. In the context of everything Lauren learned since that day, it was painfully obvious that the money came from dealing drugs. Hell, even her late cousin had amassed half a million dollars in his rundown apartment from making methamphetamine — and that was perhaps the easiest drug to make if you had the precursors in steady supply.

The first step would be protonating the psuedoephedrine and forming a hydronium ion leaving group that is substituted by an iodide anion. Then, the iodoephedrine would undergo reductive dehalogenation to form methamphetamine.

There were other ways, of course — it was one of the most beautiful aspects of chemistry. But this was by far the simplest and easiest to perform in a lab. It didn't require any procedural modifications to select for the correct stereoisomer either, unlike other methods. Some of her high school students could probably even do it (at least the ones that knew how to work a Bunsen burner).

The trouble was, it was a lucrative business, loathe as Lauren was to admit it. On any other day — in _literally_ any other circumstance — she would have said no instantly. But there were no more options. If she didn't come up with cash by the end of the month, the hospital would stop providing their regular services until the balance was resolved. They were obligated to take care of Janine in an emergency, as it was required by law, but they could easily refuse giving a twenty thousand dollar treatment if they had reason to believe she wouldn't pay. Their house could be repossessed if they didn't make payments on the mortgage. At this point, their financial situation could only be described as a crisis.

Lauren quickly did the math in her head: in addition to the ten thousand dollars now, she would need roughly five hundred thousand dollars a year to break even, provided that her mother received all her prescribed doses of IVIG and all of her and Bo's bills were paid on time. The about seemed astronomical, especially compared with her measly sixty thousand dollars per year teaching salary.

Sometimes, desperate times called for desperate measures.

Lauren returned to the bedroom where Bo was sleeping soundly. She _never_ wanted to see Bo in that much pain again. Nobody deserved to feel that inadequate, like their entire life crumbled apart because of some mishap that could have happened to anyone. Unfortunately though, unless things changed, every setback for them would feel like the end of the world. It was no way to live. They'd only just resolved their relationship issues, and now something else had reared its ugly head. It was their pattern, apparently.

This time though, Lauren was ready to do something about it. Even if she found the idea of what she would be doing distasteful, it _had_ to beat living the way she was now. And her mother deserved to live in peace and not have to worry about whether or not she and Bo could make enough money for her to get what she needed. It was cruel that Lauren was pushed to this dark place to begin with.

Lauren climbed onto the bed again next to Bo, who yet again did not budge. She ran her fingers along the side of her face, tracing the plane of her wife's cheeks and jaw while she slept.

"I love you, Bo," Lauren whispered as her fingers continued stroking the side of her wife's face. It felt important to say these things out loud in Bo's presence, even if she couldn't hear them. "I love you so much that it scares me sometimes. Please, don't ever doubt that, no matter what may happen going forward."

Lauren's throat started to constrict towards the end of her confession, and she closed her eyes tightly before she reached down to grasp Bo's hands. She pressed a firm kiss in each of her palms and simply entwined their fingers together for a moment, trying to envision a dream scenario where none of their current problems existed and they were free to live exactly as they wanted. It was a pipe dream, but it gave Lauren strength and a semblance of hope for what she had to do next.

She removed herself from the bed again, and with one last glance at Bo, she headed toward the Camaro. Lauren had unpleasant business to take care of on the other side of town before Bo woke up. It was an unlikely source of hope for Lauren, and if someone told her last week that she'd be going to Kenzi Malikov's house to propose a potential partnership situation — in illegal activities no less — she would have said they were certifiably insane. It was funny how a few days could change one's outlook on life completely. Lauren knew that her former student was going to be highly resistant to the idea — and quite honestly, Lauren wasn't exactly thrilled about it either. But at this point, it was a necessity.

Lauren was going to make Kenzi Malikov an offer she'd be stupid to refuse.


	7. Desperate Measures

Kenzi's old, dilapidated building appeared even more menacing at nighttime. Perhaps it was merely the sinister looking barbed wire fences surrounding the place. That, combined with the fact that Lauren knew she was in a rough part of town, had her on edge as she strolled to the front door. There was no light on outside (Lauren didn't even remember if she'd seen a porch light to begin with), and the only illumination was from the moon shining above her.

The implications of Lauren's plans weren't lost on her. Even though the Camaro's engine was off, she gripped the steering wheel tightly in anticipation of what she was planning to do. Now that she arrived, doubts were starting to set in.

It was easy enough to come up with a logical plan in her head. Lauren was always adept at solving problems and had always done so successfully in the past. But those methods never required Lauren to break so many of her own rules. Those decisions were much easier, like changing her career to secure a health insurance plan or re-mortgaging the house, for instance. They still carried their own implications, but they were much easier to grapple with since they had a clearly defined solution. This problem wasn't so easy to solve. The demands against Lauren were astronomical, and her ability to meet those demands were woefully inadequate.

Lauren wasn't a stupid woman either. She was more than aware of the various fates that befell people who got carried away in what she was considering. They were advertised everywhere: in the paper, on the news, and even on the billboards overlooking the city streets. All of those weighed on her mind heavily, even more so now that she was so close to actually having to commit to the decision one way or another. The pain shooting through Lauren's tensed knuckles made her relax her fingers against the steering wheel and drop her hands into her lap.

If she didn't do anything, the chances of her and Bo actually solving their problem were slim to none. If she paired up with Kenzi, she would probably not be able to look at herself in the mirror for a long time, but she could potentially keep herself and Bo afloat financially, while also making sure that her mother was well taken care of. The cost of following through with her plan was high, but the cost of inaction was unacceptable. The image of Bo's breakdown earlier today came unbidden to her mind, and the fresh wave of hurt that it brought to Lauren's chest made the decision clear. She hardly realized that she'd climbed out of the car and walked toward the door. Her body did it without a conscious effort, and before she was fully aware of what she'd done, she was standing on the worn steps to the old, weathered building.

Lauren set her jaw and knocked. Her knuckles struck the door five times, each time confidently and hard enough to sound throughout the entire building. It was several moments before the door creaked open, but Lauren waited calmly in the cool autumn air, knowing in her gut that the person she was after was most certainly inside.

"Mrs. Lewis?" Kenzi said incredulously as she took in Lauren's appearance. Her eyebrows rose so high that they became lost in her bangs. "Jesus, It's after eleven o'clock — what the hell are you doing here?"

It had been a few days since Lauren showed up to inquire about Kenzi's motives for dropping out. She'd been so dead set on her plan that Lauren didn't see any way to reason with her, and the both of them understood that it was the end of that discussion and probably would be the last time they spoke to one another again. Kenzi definitely wasn't expecting to see her return, and just an hour ago, Lauren hadn't planned on it either.

"May I come inside?" Lauren asked, taking a quick glance over her shoulder. It was more of a statement than a question, however.

Kenzi picked up on her tone of voice. "Umm… Sure?" The words barely left her mouth before Lauren pushed herself through the door. Their shoulders bumped as she squeezed herself by, causing Kenzi to roll her eyes. "By all means, please… Make yourself at home." Kenzi snapped the rickety door shut, turning around to face her unexpected visitor.

There was a tangible awkwardness between the two of them. Some of it was their previous conversation still looming over them, but most of it was their previous relationship of teacher and student — and how even then, they could not have been more antagonistic towards each other. Tolerating each other was the most either could accomplish while they were in those roles. And Kenzi having a teacher in her home, not to mention one that she never really got along with, wasn't something that she knew how to handle.

"Do you mind telling me why you're here? What is it that you want this time?" Kenzi asked sharply. "Did you come to lecture me again about how I'm ruining my life?"

"No."

"Then what?"

Lauren sighed. This was the moment she was most concerned about. She had to make it clear to Kenzi that this was in _both_ of their best interests, or else it wouldn't work. Kenzi was stubborn, too. She was liable to refuse simply because of their relationship to each other, but if Lauren pressed too hard, she was just as likely to turn down Lauren's offer. She had to be pragmatic in her approach while still getting her full point across.

"I'm not here to try to persuade you to come back to school. I know better than to try. But I can gather from the news that your cousin was a methamphetamine manufacturer, and from the gobs of cash you always seem to have on you these days, I'd say it's safe to assume that you made deals for him." Lauren watched Kenzi closely for any type of reaction. Her face remained impassive, but at least she hadn't become indignant at the mention of her cousin like Lauren was afraid of. "Now that he's gone, I think it's safe to admit that you have a problem now."

Kenzi threw her hands on her hips. "What is this, _Intervention_? You plannin' on narking on me?"

"No."

"Then do you mind getting to the point and telling me what you want?"

Lauren took a step toward her. "Your problem is that you no longer have anyone to manufacture for you. I know from having you in my class that you have virtually no experience inside a lab, save for the days you _actually_ decided to show up. You're careless as a scientist, and that is only going to end up hurting you. Do you even know how to make methamphetamine? Do you know _anything_ about its structure at all?"

"I've seen my cousin do it dozens of times. I know all the steps, and I could do them in my sleep."

Lauren shook her head. "That's not chemistry. Anyone could sabotage your method at any point. What would happen if someone happened to slip you a concentrated bromide solution instead of pseudoephedrine, Kenzi? They don't look all that differently, you know."

Kenzi was silent.

"It would produce a violent explosion during your initial reaction with red phosphorus, producing highly corrosive phosphorous acid and gaseous hydrobromic acid."

"So what?"

"You could end up killing yourself simply because you didn't know any better. The people out there — especially the people you're going to be running around with — they aren't kind, Kenzi. Nobody is going to have your back. They'd turn on you in an instant if it made them a few extra bucks, and they'd take advantage of any shortcoming you had to do it. And whether you'd like to admit it or not, one of those shortcomings is chemistry. You need help, and I could help you."

Whatever answer Kenzi had been expecting, it wasn't the one Lauren gave her. Her usually sharp and witty retort didn't come this time, and her eyes widened at Lauren's suggestion. She was speechless for several moments as the shocking proposal registered.

"_You_?" Kenzi gaped at her. "_You_ helping _me_ sell crystal meth? You've got to be shitting me."

"No, I can guarantee you Kenzi that I am not in fact 'shitting you.' And if we're being technical, you would still be the one doing all the selling. I would just be the producer. We'd almost be like partners in a sense. But I wouldn't interfere in your side of things, and you wouldn't interfere in mine."

"What makes you think I need your help of all people?" Kenzi narrowed her eyes at Lauren. "I still could manage to find others that would help me out. It's not like Anton didn't have any friends." She gave Lauren a penetrating stare. "Why you?"

"You can trust me," Lauren assured her.

"Bullshit, I can trust you," Kenzi scoffed. "You said it yourself: people aren't nice, and they'd turn on you like _that_ if it got them something they wanted." Kenzi snapped her finger to emphasize her point. "Look, if some tweaker came up to me offering to cook, I would understand the motive. I don't use myself, but some of these people, they just have to be around it to even feel alive anymore, you know? I know what to expect from them. But _you_? You I don't understand."

"I'm not —"

"Let me finish," Kenzi interrupted her, taking a step closer so that she had to tilt her head upward to meet Lauren's gaze. She threw both hands on her hips. "Look at you, Mrs. Lewis," Kenzi said, letting her eyes rake down Lauren from head to toe in an appraising manner. "You… Your little wife at home… You're just the portrait of the perfect suburban life aren't you? You don't belong here. The fact that you're even here talking about this at all makes me not want to trust you. Either someone has your ass in a vice — which I want no part of — or you're planning on screwing me over."

Kenzi's glare was accusing, but Lauren held her gaze steadily. The girl's allegations were so far off base that they didn't even hurt; they were just maddening. Lauren set her jaw, causing the muscles along the sides of her face to twitch.

"With all due respect Kenzi," Lauren replied coolly, "you don't know the first thing about my life — just as I suspect I don't know the first thing about yours. But that's irrelevant. I don't want to be here almost as much as you don't want me to be here. Yet for reasons completely outside of my own control, I don't have any other options." Lauren's voice was unintentionally menacing, but it served to keep Kenzi silent, so she pressed on. "So as for the real reason I'm here? If I don't find a way to come up with a more money than I have — and quickly — I lose just about everything that I own, everything in that 'perfect little life' that you accuse me of having. So, I really have no interest in screwing you over. You're the only person I know of that can help me, and I'm hoping that I could at least offer you something in return as well. It would be a business arrangement, Kenzi — nothing more. You're wouldn't be obligated to be my friend, and I wouldn't be obligated to be yours."

The silence hung heavily at the end of Lauren's proposition. Kenzi kept her expression unreadable, but her eyes were clearly searching Lauren for something — perhaps for a hint of deception, or an ulterior motive on Lauren's part. But there was none. It was probably the most forthcoming Lauren had ever been with her life's misfortunes, and ironically it was with someone who may as well have been a stranger. She had nothing to hide. That knowledge gave her the necessary resolve to meet Kenzi's searching gaze unflinchingly.

"Do you even know what you're asking to get yourself into?" Kenzi asked her, with a trace of wistfulness in her voice.

The biting cynicism was gone, replaced by what almost sounded like concern. The abrupt shift in her demeanor was jarring. Lauren watched her closely, trying to understand the motivation for the switch.

"My parents hate me," Kenzi explained. "I've been on the streets off and on since I was in middle school, and Anton's parents kicked him out of the house too. We got into it because we needed to to survive, and for people like us, there aren't always nice options," she said, her voice becoming more strained at the mention of her cousin. "But you… You're not like us. No offense, Mrs. Lewis, but you have all these rules. Your moral compass points due north, and to survive in this world, you need it to point southwest."

Kenzi's concern was touching in a way, especially since Lauren didn't think her particularly capable of expressing those emotions in her presence. With Lauren, she was always either cynical or a goof-off, with very little variation. In her own way, it was almost a sweet gesture.

"I appreciate your concern, Kenzi, but don't think I'm treating this lightly. I'm not," Lauren said, giving her a serious look. "I've thought — maybe even harder than you have — about the consequences, and in the face of the alternative, I think you can tell by my being here what I decided. I don't pretend to know much about the trade. I only know the chemistry behind it, though I assume you know the business. Together, we'd be better off than if either of us went at it alone. Help me. That way, I can help you."

Kenzi seemed to internally debate herself for several moments. Lauren could practically hear the cogs turning in her head, and she wished she knew what she was thinking so she could say something else if she needed to.

"If I say yes — and that's a big _if_ — you can't back out the first time things get tough. That's not to say that you can't leave, but you're not going to leave me in a shit-uation all by myself. If there's a deal on, you can't back out."

"I wouldn't leave you to fend for yourself, Kenzi," Lauren assured her, though the fact that she was even entertaining the idea was promising in the first place.

"And if you're going to be in charge of the cooking, then I'm going to be in charge if the selling. I don't try try and correct your chemistry stuff and you don't complain about the deals I make."

"That sounds reasonable."

"And you can't tell anyone else about this," Kenzi said, giving Lauren a pointed look. "Nobody, Mrs. L… And especially not your wife. She's already sniffing around my butt enough as it is." Lauren's brows furrowed in confusion at the condition Kenzi offered, but the younger girl blew it off with a blasé wave of her hand. "If you can't handle that, then I can't have us working on the same team."

Lauren needed to work with Kenzi, but she was deeply uncomfortable with the idea of keeping all of her actions from Bo. Still, she hadn't planned on telling Bo tonight anyway… What would she have said? If _her_ wife approached her and said that she would be dabbling in the city's drug trade to handle their debts, Lauren probably would have laughed, thinking it was a joke. But she knew she needed to tell Bo eventually, if for no other reason than to appease her own conscience.

Lauren hoped that when that time came, she would be able to do it on her own terms. Ideally, there would be no conflict hanging over her head, and she would have amassed a hefty sum of money to give her an out if she and Bo needed it. Kenzi's stipulation didn't allow for that, however. Actively keeping secrets from Bo for long periods of time wasn't something that Lauren was particularly adept at, and the thought of not being able to discuss such a serious matter with her wife didn't sit well with Lauren.

But on the other hand, perhaps it would be better if Bo didn't know…

Lauren had already rationalized this decision to herself by understanding that this wasn't truly _her_ that would be doing it. She'd mentally distanced herself and completely depersonalized what she would be doing. It made the whole prospect much easier to think about by giving it a tinge of unreality. But Bo couldn't do that like Lauren could. Her compassion and her indelible sense of right and wrong wouldn't allow her to. It was one of the intricacies that Lauren always loved about Bo, even from when they first met, but it would certainly be an obstacle now.

Fortunately — or unfortunately (Lauren couldn't decide which) — there wasn't a choice to be made in the matter. According to Kenzi's rules, Bo couldn't find out about the operation anyway. It wouldn't assuage Lauren's guilt any, but it would spare Bo the pain of knowing. Lauren just hoped that she and Kenzi were able to make as much money as humanly possible — and quickly — so that she could bow out of the arrangement as soon as she could.

"Nobody else will know," Lauren assured her. "You have my word."

Kenzi nodded. "Just one more thing. There's no more lab since it got smashed. I can get Sudafed, no problem, but everything else you need to get if you're going to help."

Most of what Lauren needed wasn't extremely difficult to track down, especially as she had unfettered access to most of the chemicals she needed at school. They were cheap and kept in abundance. The only one that was difficult to come by was the pseudoephedrine, which Kenzi promised to keep in steady supply.

"I can handle that," Lauren said. "Is that all you were concerned about?"

Kenzi chuckled darkly and shook her head. "No… But that's all _you_ can do about it."

"So, is that a yes then?"

Kenzi's eyes searched Lauren's again, looking closely for any sign of deception. Yet there was none to be found. She sighed deeply, running one of her hands through her black hair to smooth it out. Lauren held her own breath in anticipation.

"I guess it's like the great Hilary Duff once said: 'Why not'?" Kenzi shrugged. Upon hearing Kenzi's decision, Lauren's lips involuntarily curved into a grin. She'd done it, and with some luck, she'd be able to keep her and Bo out of arrears for the foreseeable future — as long as everything went according to plan. "Don't get too excited, Mrs. L," Kenzi added, sensing Lauren's growing excitement. "If you go back on your promises or if any bullshit happens, I still reserve the right to end this, anytime and anyplace."

"I understand."

"Good."

"Sooo… I'll see you tomorrow then?" Lauren asked awkwardly.

Kenzi's eyebrows raised. "Whenever you get all your shit together and are ready to start, you know where to find me. Until then, we don't have a reason to talk."

Lauren knew exactly how much of each substance she needed, and she'd already compiled a list of all the equipment she'd need as well. Since the school district overhauled the science department a couple of years ago and replaced all the chemistry lab equipment, all of the old materials were kept in storage. Nobody would notice if anything went missing, and she could also package the chemicals in separate containers to take with her. All Lauren needed was a few spare moments in the storage room unaccompanied.

"Then in that case, I'll see you tomorrow," Lauren said.

She ignored Kenzi's confused expression, and turned toward the door. Despite not being particularly thrilled about what she had to do, Lauren did feel a rush of excitement at having succeeded tonight. She'd made a plan, and now the plan was set in motion.

It would be difficult, and there were still nagging doubts playing in her mind, but for the first time in what felt like a long time, there was an actual way out of a bad situation.

* * *

Something seemed amiss when Lauren returned home.

Even though it was nearly midnight, it seemed far too quiet inside the house. The small lamp near the entranceway was turned off, despite the porch light being left on outside. She was almost certain that she'd left it on; after all, she did most times she ran late night errands. When she didn't, many times she nicked her thigh on the side table or stubbed her toe on the bookcase on her way back to the bedroom. Unless she'd forgotten to leave the light on, which was unlikely, then the bulb had either burnt out, or someone had purposefully turned it off.

Lauren felt in the darkness for the lamp, eventually bumping her hand on the side of the lamp and running her fingers up until they grazed the switch. She startled when its light filled the room. There was a familiar but entirely unexpected figure sitting stiffly on the couch that made her heart skip a beat.

"Bo?" Lauren gasped in shock. "What are you doing up?"

Once the initial surprise of Bo sitting in the darkness started to ebb, Lauren frowned at her appearance. She was still in the same clothes from earlier — she'd been far too inconsolable to change — and it was clear from the smudged mascara and eyeliner that she hadn't washed her face either. She looked like someone who'd exhausted their capacity to feel, even to hurt. Bo's expression was hollow, but after her rest, she now appeared ominously awake.

"Couldn't sleep anymore," she mumbled numbly. "When I woke up, and you weren't here… I thought that maybe…" A flash of pain crossed over Bo's stoic features, breaking through her emotionless trance. "I thought that maybe you'd finally had enough — that maybe you'd finally left."

Lauren felt her heart break a little at Bo's confession. Her vulnerability wasn't something that she usually wore so plainly on her sleeve. Her wife had always been the type to put up a strong and unaffected front, and seeing her so raw and exposed made Lauren feel the pain just as strongly.

"Honey, no," Lauren said, stepping around the small end table and toward the couch. Bo wouldn't even look up from the floor, and she held her hands determinedly in her lap. "Bo, please look at me." Lauren waited several moments for her wife to slowly meet her eyes. "Did you really think that I would do that? Just leave in the middle of the night without saying anything?"

"I would understand why if you did," Bo confessed in a tiny voice. "We're going to lose the house, Lo," she added, almost as if the thought had just dawned on her. "We're going to lose everything because I messed up."

"We haven't lost anything. Not yet." Lauren reached into Bo's lap to grasp her hands. She rubbed her thumbs over them in a soothing gesture for several seconds. "And I wouldn't just leave you here to face it alone if we did."

They sat there for several moments. Lauren lost track of how long they stayed in that position on the couch, with their legs angled toward each other and their knees touching. It was a comfortable and familiar feeling, and both of them were content to remain there as long as possible. They reveled in the silence, simply enjoying the sensation of their hands brushing together.

Bo broke the silence some time later. "So where were you earlier?" she asked, just realizing that she didn't actually know. She'd assumed that Lauren abandoned her, but when that turned up false, she never questioned it.

Lauren swallowed thickly, the innocent question already causing her all sorts of anxiety. Not even an hour ago, she'd promised to _not_ tell Bo. Those promises weren't merely for Kenzi's satisfaction either. They were also to protect Bo from getting caught up in whatever mess she got herself into. Lauren justified it to herself by the belief that she was protecting her and helping them both out of a terrible situation. Having to actually look into her questioning eyes, though — now _that_ was difficult. Lauren never had to actively keep anything from Bo before, so all of this was a new experience. She was surprised to find out how much it all _hurt_. Knowing that she was having to withhold from her, and seeing nothing but unfettered trust in return — it gnawed at Lauren from the inside.

"I needed to get out for a little bit," Lauren lied. "Just drive, think about other things… Clear my head for a while."

"Any new bright ideas in that big brain of yours?" Bo offered a sad, quivering smile.

_Yes, but you definitely wouldn't like it_, Lauren thought, though she didn't dare say it out loud.

Instead, she settled on saying: "Maybe. I need to check on a few things tomorrow after work. Do you think it'd be all right if I took the car?"

"It's fine. I need to call my client anyway… Tell them what happened."

Bo's shoulders drooped even further at the reminder, and she looked down to the ground again. Lauren removed one of her hands from Bo's lap, using it to left her chin back up.

"Hey," Lauren said. "You've done nothing wrong, Bo. Remember that. Let's get you cleaned up, okay?"

Bo seemed confused by Lauren's words, but she realized a moment later that she was still wearing the clothes she'd put on early this morning. After the incident at the precinct and the subsequent meltdown, she hadn't done much else besides sleep. She was out for several hours on top of the covers wearing her regular clothes. The only items missing were her shoes, which Lauren took off for her once she'd fallen asleep earlier.

"Okay," Bo agreed in a soft voice. "Will you help me?"

"Do you need me to?"

Bo nodded, and Lauren wasn't able to deny her what she wanted when she saw the somber look on her face. She stood up from the couch, holding her hand out for Bo to pull herself up as well.

Normally, Bo would was far more salacious when she was in the shower with Lauren. Even in the past when they were more or less at odds with each other, Bo would occasionally sneak into the bathroom while Lauren was in the shower in an attempt to spice things up between them. Admittedly, it was difficult to resist Bo at those times, mostly because even nowadays, they were still so attracted to each other.

Bo had none of that underlying sexual energy now, and it was clear that she'd requested Lauren's presence simply because she needed the reassurance of her physical contact. Bo stood still on the hard tile floor of the bathroom as Lauren started the water. Her posture was rigid, and she made no move to take off her clothes.

"Honey, lift up your arms," Lauren instructed as she approached, snapping Bo out of her trance. Bo complied and slowly raised her arms above her head.

Lauren peeled off Bo's shirt slowly, but unlike so many other times, there was no heat behind it. It was simply the innocent gesture of taking care of someone she loved. In much the same way, she removed Bo's tight black pants, as well as her own clothes before leading them both to the warm water.

It was a welcome, soothing sensation for the both of them. Bo relished the feeling of Lauren's soapy hands on her body, and though she didn't use her own hands to help Lauren at all, she did wrap her arms around Lauren's lower back. The positioning kept their bodies close, which is what Bo wanted — and needed — more than anything.

Lauren had forgotten how nice it felt to be doing something so intimate with Bo. She loved their heated exchanges, but there was something to be said for these simple, comforting moments as well. The only part she hated was how broken Bo was now. Lauren suffused every touch with as much love and support as she could muster, hoping that she was doing something to ease her pain. The way that Bo clung to her made Lauren believe that she was successful on some level.

There was hardly any space between them the rest of the night. Once they'd both dried off and were ready for bed, they simply climbed underneath the covers together. The proximity and loving contact gave them both a sense of growing comfort, though for ironically different reasons. Bo felt the reassurance and love from her wife after feeling as if she'd failed the both of them irrevocably, and Lauren felt relief at Bo's presence knowing that she would be keeping a secret from her for the foreseeable future.

That comfort would only last until the morning when they woke up, however. After that, both of them would need to find their inner strength again. Once they had to face their problems again, they would need all they could possibly get.

* * *

It was a simple enough task getting all the equipment out to Lauren's car after detention ended. By that time, nearly all the students and other teachers already left campus. There were far fewer eyes around, and most of the remaining people present were the cleaning staff. It was the perfect time to move everything from the lab's storage room to the back seat of the Camaro.

All of the glassware Lauren packed was from the old supply, so it wasn't as if anyone would miss it if were gone. There wasn't anything wrong with it, however. Some of the flasks and beakers bore permanent marks from particularly potent reactions, though it wouldn't keep them from working perfectly in the future. The effect was more aesthetic than anything else.

There were three large boxes total, and one by one, Lauren took them out to her car. She made sure to pack the chemicals with extra care, tucking them in tightly to avoid any spillage on the drive across town.

If she was going to be making the drive regularly, Lauren realized, she would do well to have her own car for these errands — especially if she hoped to avoid questions from Bo. Her mother had an old beat-up Chrysler that had been broken down for a couple of years. The estimate they'd received for the repairs was outrageously high, especially seeing as how Janine didn't even drive anymore, but now that Lauren had a need for it, perhaps it was time to get it fixed. But to do that, she needed money first.

And getting money required her to go to Kenzi's place, which left her where she was now.

The old building on the far side of town was already becoming far too familiar for Lauren's liking. She pulled the Camaro into her usual spot but frowned, noticing another black car outside that she hadn't seen before on her previous two visits. Lauren grabbed one of her boxes with both arms, hoisting some of the weight on her hip as she carried it to the door. Kenzi opened it only seconds after she knocked.

"And you say _I_ don't listen," Kenzi scoffed, rolling her eyes as soon as she saw Lauren standing in the doorway. "Did you not hear what I told yesterday before you left? Or were you too distracted?"

Lauren blinked in confusion. "I don't know what you're talking about. I said I'd stop by after school today."

"And if you were listening, you'd know that I said 'don't bother.' We don't have anyplace to work."

"There's literally nobody living within a two mile radius of here. Fortunately for other people, but also fortunately for me because I don't have a fume hood. We'd be out of range where anyone could smell it. This _place_ —" Lauren said, not knowing what else to call Kenzi's living situation, "— would be perfect to work out of."

Kenzi flung the door completely opened and pulled Lauren inside quickly, slamming the door shut behind her. "Abso-fucking-lutely not." She took the box from Lauren's hands and dropped it unceremoniously by the door.

"Why not?" Lauren crossed her arms in front of her chest.

"First of all, and most importantly, I don't shit where I eat," Kenzi hissed. "I know you probably have your pretty little house on the north side of town, but this is my _home_. It's not getting turned into your mad scientist lab."

"And…?"

"And secondly, there may not be anyone living close by, but there's still people passing through all the time during the day. The docks are just a couple of miles east of here, and anyone working there would have to pass by the road out front."

That was a complication Lauren was unaware of. She was accustomed to the acrid smells of chemical reactions based on her line of work, but others would definitely take notice if they happened across the smell — and not in the good way. The sulfurous and ethereous aroma was a dead giveaway for many, and they'd be caught in less than a month if passers by happened to catch the scent.

"So where can we go then?" Lauren asked.

Kenzi shrugged. "That's what we were trying to figure out when you showed up."

"Who's 'we'?"

Almost as if on cue, heavy footsteps sounded from the dark staircase on the other side of the room. Kenzi glanced over Lauren's shoulder, prompting the blonde to spin around to find the source of the noise. The new person's black work boots were just visible at the top of the stairs, but as they descended, more was revealed. Lauren realized with a gasp that she recognized the person. In fact, she'd known them longer than she'd known Kenzi.

"Vex?!" Lauren asked incredulously.

He'd changed physically in the months he'd been since he'd left school. His black, unruly hair was slightly shorter then before, and he'd since grown a goatee. He looked much more grown up than he did while he was enrolled. Due to his number of failures in high school, he was twenty-four years old, but he appeared even older than that — and all of those changes occurred in the span of merely several months.

"In the flesh," Vex smirked. He traipsed down the last few steps before stepping over to join them. When he got closer, Lauren noticed the new star-shaped tattoo beneath his left eye as well. "You know, even after Kenzi told me you'd be joining us, I still didn't think you had it in you actually follow through with it. Pretty ballsy, Mrs. L."

"I don't know how it's ballsy. I said I'd be here, and here I am."

"Have you come up with anything, Vex?" Kenzi asked, cutting off the exchange between her teacher and her other former student.

"I have a few ideas," he said.

"Well then, let's hear them."

"The way I see it — you've got two basic options if you want to keep the fuzz off your case," Vex explained. "You've got to either hide what you're doing by going far off the grid… Or you've got to find a way to mask what you're doing."

"So for option one?" Lauren asked.

"Ideally, you could take it out to the ocean. The fog would hide the smoke, and you could always make sure there was plenty of space between you and the next boat. As long as there was fishing equipment on board nobody would ask any questions. You could stay out all day, cook, and then bring back what you made in chests like you'd bring back fish."

"Except that none of us has a boat," Lauren pointed out the flaw in his plan.

Vex shrugged. "Your loss, not mine."

"Any other suggestions?" Kenzi asked.

"There's always the forest to the west of the city."

"Nuh-uh," Kenzi said, shaking her head. "That's a state park. That place could be crawling with people at any moment with absolutely no warning."

"So that leaves us with option two then," Lauren mused before turning her attention back to Vex. "What are our options for masking the lab?"

"There's always the chemical plant," he shrugged. "There are enough smells coming from that place to cover up anything you two would be putting out."

There was only one place Vex could have been referring to, and that was Taft's plant. Lauren was familiar with the layout because of the numerous times he'd shown her around the place in the past back when he was trying to persuade her to work for him. So she knew better than anyone that what Vex was suggesting was impossible. There were workers around every square inch of the building, and if that wasn't bad enough, there were security cameras posted along all the property outside. It would be impossible to even walk by the place undetected, much less set up an illegal lab.

"That's completely out of the question," Lauren said, shaking her head. "I've been there. We'd get arrested the second we even pulled out a flask."

"Well there is _one_ last option," Vex, another sly grin forming on his face, "but neither of you is going to like it."

"What is it?" Kenzi and Lauren both said in unison. They glanced at each other with surprised expressions.

"The old landfill," he answered, giggling to himself at the disgusted looks on the women's faces.

* * *

Lauren and Kenzi spent the drive down to the landfill in tense silence.

Vex explained everything to them before they left. The rank odor from the city's waste would more than cover the smell from anything she or Kenzi would be doing, and coincidentally, the city also recently expanded the landfill's property. They did so by purchasing the surrounding low ticket housing district at a significantly higher premium than the residents originally paid. Since then, they'd all abandoned their mobile homes and used their cash to buy better houses elsewhere. The area was now a derelict old trailer park, but it had yet to be used as a deposition site.

Lauren understood the wiseness of the decision to work there, but that didn't mean she had to like it. Kenzi and Lauren both turned their noses up in horror once they passed through the invisible smell barrier. The air almost seemed thicker, it smelled so awful, and it only got worse the closer they got to their destination.

"Holy shitballs," Kenzi groaned. She shuddered involuntarily at the rancid air she was breathing. "Double whorf. We are _so_ getting a boat as soon as possible."

"Hmm… How did Vex manage to get all that Sudafed anyway?" Lauren asked, trying to take both their minds off the stench. "I thought most places had limits on how much you can buy. It's probably harder to get for most people than alcohol is for underage drinkers."

"Vex works at the airport. He's a baggage handler," she said, as if that answered all Lauren's questions.

"Pardon?"

"Sudafed helps with the ear popping when people get on planes. They take one before their flight, but the rest of the pills get left with their bags. Vex ends up taking the bags to the planes. He loves it — says there's all kinds of weird shit that people bring with them on flights."

Lauren was about to open her mouth to ask a question, but abruptly snapped it shut, realizing that she didn't really want to know the answer. She kept her jaw clenched tightly and her eyes straight ahead. She would never imagined that Vex would make a regular habit of stealing from people — and apparently be quite proud of it from the sound of things. She'd taught him in class for years due to his multiple failures, and the idea that he'd stooped to that made her feel as if she failed him in some way.

"Don't tell me _that_ made you squeamish, Mrs. Lewis," Kenzi scoffed, noting the expression on Lauren's face. "If the idea of someone stealing from bags at the airport makes you this queasy, I don't why the hell you thought volunteering for this was a good idea. Nobody forced you to do this."

Kenzi was right, though Lauren wouldn't admit it out loud. She'd agreed to this arrangement knowing all that entailed: the good, the bad, and the ugly. She could hardly be surprised to hear that anyone involved might not be entirely compliant with the law. Hell, in just a few short hours, Lauren wouldn't be so squeaky clean herself either. It was time she stopped thinking of everything in such black and white terms. Sometimes, what people did to simply keep on living their lives wasn't exactly pleasant, and it didn't make them unforgivably horrible people.

"I'm sorry… I'm just getting used to the idea of all this," Lauren said, relaxing her death grip on the steering wheel. "This is all new to me."

Kenzi shrugged. "You get used to it," she replied simply.

It wasn't much longer before Lauren reached the entrance. They were admitted without so much as a second glance, and they easily wound their way through the paths toward the back of the landfill. The driving surface wasn't paved; it was the result of a natural process that occurred over years of heavy trucks driving over the same places. Between the heaps of rotting trash, there were easily visible tire track marks that Lauren followed closely to avoid hitting potholes.

"Over there," Kenzi called out, pointing toward a fence along the far side of the landfill.

Lauren followed where she indicated, seeing the abandoned mobile homes more clearly as she approached. There wasn't a soul in sight, so Lauren parked the car along the side of the fence and cut off the engine. She noticed a large lock hanging off the gate leading inside.

"It's locked," Lauren announced unnecessarily.

Kenzi ignored her. She climbed out of the car, grabbing her large duffel bag from the rear seat and heading toward the locked gate. Lauren frowned at her. The only things she'd seen in the bag were tons of blister packets for the pills. Yet Kenzi had thrown the bag on the ground right next to the gate and was clearly digging around for something at the bottom of the bag. Lauren saw it clearly when the pulled it out — it was a bolt cutter.

With one quick, practiced movement, she squeezed the long handles together. The lock fell loose and hit the dirt, sending a tiny cloud of dust in in the air. Kenzi sauntered back over with a satisfied smirk.

"Me being a problem solver — I bet this is just blowing your mind isn't it, Mrs. L?" She tossed the bolt cutter in the back seat, and it landed with a dull thud.

"You were always a problem solver, Kenzi," Lauren said. "You just never applied yourself."

"Yeah, well it's hard to get motivated to apply yourself when ninety-nine percent of the shit you learn in class is useless."

Lauren bit back her reply, deciding it was useless to get in an argument with her now. She had work to do, and she needed to do it quickly if she planned on getting home at a decent hour. Bo didn't know where she was, but she'd be asking some pressing questions if Lauren came back too late.

"Let's go," Lauren said with a sigh.

By this time, both of them were more or less accustomed to the stench of the landfill, so the stink didn't bother them that much anymore. Each of them grabbed a box, and Kenzi led them into the empty lots. They both paused in the gravel clearing between the tiny buildings. Each one looked much the same as the next. While it was clear that nobody was around, Kenzi still had a moment of indecision as she decided which one of the mobile homes she wanted them to use.

Kenzi's eyes settled on one over on the far side of the lot, and she strutted off in its direction. "Over here," she instructed.

"What's so special about this one?"

"Less broken windows."

"Oh."

Kenzi set the box down in front of the door, giving the door knob a twist. It was locked. Before Lauren even had a chance to process what to do next, Kenzi already shoved her elbow through the glass in the door, reaching in and unlocking it from the inside.

"Isn't this breaking and entering?" Lauren asked.

"Number one, nobody lives here. And number two," Kenzi turned back around to glare at her, "are you planning on telling anybody?"

"You make a valid point."

"I'm chock full of valid points. And you need to loosen up."

Kenzi swung the door open, and they both went inside. Lauren didn't know what to expect, but the place was surprisingly clean. There wasn't a single item left inside. Whoever had lived here before clearly took all their belongings and had no intention of returning. That lessened Lauren's misgivings quite a bit. She dropped off her box and returned to the Camaro to retrieve the last one, but when she returned, Kenzi was in the kitchen already nosing around in the equipment.

"Kenzi, put that down please," Lauren scolded.

"What? I'm helping set everything up. I'm not going to get bitched out for sitting my ass."

"You're doing it wrong."

Kenzi set the large flask down on the kitchen counter and threw one hand on her hip, turning around to face Lauren. "Well this is how Anton did it."

"Then I don't think Anton was getting an optimal yield or as pure of a product as he could have been." Lauren gestured to the flask. "That's a volumetric flask, Kenzi. The flat base makes it ideal for measuring, but it doesn't provide a good surface for even heating. You wouldn't be able to control the reduction very well."

"Fine," she grumbled. "What would you suggest then?"

Lauren set her box down, moving over to rummage through the box Kenzi had already opened. "Ah, here…" She pulled out another flask to hand to Kenzi, but this one didn't have a triangular base. "Use the ones with the round bottoms if you're going to be using a heat source."

Kenzi frowned as she watched Lauren set up the area. She did it quickly and precisely; not one item was out of place. It took her less time to lay everything out in position than it did for Kenzi to even find the one incorrect flask she'd pulled out of the box.

The girl's bright blue eyes nearly bulged out of her skull when Lauren started peeling off her clothes — first her button down top, followed by her pants.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa!" Kenzi took a step away, shielding her eyes with both hands. "Is this some sort of weird come on, Mrs. L?! Because I am _so_ not interested!"

"Relax, Kenzi." Lauren rolled her eyes in exasperation. "I won't have the fumes from these chemicals set in my clothes. I'll try to divert them the best I can, but they're are still going to smell like ammonia and ether if I keep them on. The smell from the landfill will go away in minutes, but this won't… If you want me to keep this quiet, I can't go home smelling like a meth lab."

Kenzi tentatively pulled her fingers away from her eyes, though she still looked apprehensively at her former teacher. "You're keeping those on, right?" she asked, referring to Lauren's underwear.

"Of course." Lauren bent down to grab her safety apron from the box in front of her. Kenzi relaxed more once she tied it around her waist, concealing half of her exposed body. She bent down again, pulling two giant masks from the depths of the box.

"What are these?" Kenzi asked.

"Respirator masks," Lauren answered. "Most places have fume hoods now, but given the situation, our options are limited. While the reaction is taking place, some of the excess red phosphorus will react with the moisture in the air when it's hot enough. The gas produced in that reaction is highly toxic, and you shouldn't be breathing it in — _ever_."

"How bad is it?"

"Phosphine? At the concentrations this reaction can produce, it could kill you with just a couple of breaths."

Kenzi's eyes widened, and she quickly followed suit when Lauren strapped the mask on her head. Unlike her teacher, however, Kenzi kept her clothes on.

Kenzi didn't offer much help as Lauren worked, though she did watch Lauren's movements carefully. Ironically, it was the most attentive Kenzi had ever been in her presence. Lauren noticed the change and made sure she explained every step carefully. There was at least an opportunity for learning, despite their unfortunate circumstances.

She explained how they used alcohol as a solvent to dissolve the Sudafed tablets and solvate the pseudoephedrine… How the red phosporus was added to the elemental iodine crystals to catalyze the production of hydroiodic acid in the presence of heat, and how the iodide ion served as a nucleophile that would allow for the reduction reaction to occur, shedding the original pseudoephedrine molecule of its hydroxyl group. The freed iodine would then reform, turning the solution purple. Kenzi at least pretended to look interested — though Lauren couldn't read her facial expression all that well due to the mask.

The fumes continued to pour out of the flask Lauren was using to heat her solution. She'd rigged a makeshift fume evacuator out of thick industrial tubing, but some of it was still seeping through at the attachment site. Overall, however, the device was working surprisingly well, much better than Lauren anticipated.

"What's next?" Kenzi asked in a muffled voice, noting that the entire flask was now filled with a dark purple liquid. That meant the reaction was nearly complete.

Lauren raised her voice loudly enough to be heard though the mask: "We have to extract the product. When I add the ether, it the solution will separate into two layers: the organic layer and the aqueous layer. Do you know which one we want?" Lauren asked, taking advantage of the teaching opportunity.

There was a long pause as Kenzi considered her answer. "The organic layer?"

Lauren nodded. "That's right, very good." She reached off to the side to turn off the portable burner switch she'd brought along with her. "Now, pour what we just made into these beakers very carefully."

Kenzi was actually putting forth effort in this endeavor, which Lauren was thankful for. She'd had some misgivings about Kenzi's involvement today, but those were slowly being put to rest. She still wasn't a chemist by any means, and for her own safety Lauren still didn't want her attempting these reactions unsupervised — but she didn't feel bad about involving Kenzi in the process more now that she was proving to take it seriously.

"Now for the next part, I want you to add two hundred milliliters of ethyl ether to each of the containers and watch what happens," Lauren instructed.

Kenzi did as she was told, noticing how the liquid separated. A clear layer of fluid rested on top, and a much darker one sat on the bottom. "It's the top one, right?" Kenzi asked, to which Lauren nodded.

In the interest of time, both Lauren and Kenzi worked to siphon off the clear layer into a separate container. It was much easier work with the two of them each having a pipette, and minutes later, they'd finished completely.

"You ready?" Lauren asked, motioning toward the flat pans she'd brought with her.

Kenzi nodded. "Let's do it."

Lauren slowly poured the mixture onto the clear pans, totaling five in all. Kenzi pulled her mask off, leaning her head down close and squinting at them.

"Kenzi, I know we're not producing anymore noxious fumes, but you still shouldn't be inhaling ether. It's not good for your brain." The girl ignored Lauren's advice, but it was clear from her awed expression that she wasn't trying to get high.

"I've never seen it so clear before," Kenzi mused. "It looks like water."

"Once the ether evaporates, we'll be able to salvage the crystals. Thankfully, it evaporates quickly, so it will only be a few minutes," Lauren explained. "If we hurry, we can have this place cleaned up by the time it dries."

That suggestion was amenable to Kenzi, who promptly started to put everything away. As Lauren pointed out, none of their waste products were toxic or corrosive, so they could be disposed of easily in the landfill. The fumes were the most dangerous part of their activity; those had long since gone away. Lauren pulled her shirt and pants back on before going joining Kenzi and cleaning, and just as she suspected, by the time they were finished and had everything packed back in boxes, the ether was completely evaporated, leaving only the solid methamphetamine crystals behind.

"You do the honors," Lauren said, offering Kenzi a smile and handing her a large plastic bag. "I'll get this stuff moved back out, and I'll meet you at the car."

* * *

"This shit is pure fucking glass," Vex said in awe. He separated some of the broken shards in the bag, examining them closely.

The ride back to Kenzi's place had been much more comfortable than the ride out earlier, mostly because they'd successfully done their jobs — and without killing each other also. It was an unusual working relationship, to say the least, but based on today's results, both of them could see it continuing without too many issues arising.

"The woman can cook," Kenzi said, agreeing with Vex's assessment. She'd been just as amazed as he was at first. "Who knew?"

"Sweetheart, I can _cook_," Vex shook his head. "But if I can cook, that makes Mrs. L the goddamn Iron Chef. Look at this! There are pieces two — maybe even three inches long in here!"

Lauren explained to Kenzi how impurities made the final product more brittle and susceptible to easy breakage. It was bound to be crushed anyway, but the fact that it held its form was a testament to its purity. It probably wasn't something seen too often on the streets, seeing as how most "cooks" didn't exactly understand the science behind what they were doing.

"I'm glad it's satisfactory," Lauren said. "Now I have to defer to your expertise. How much do you think that will sell for?"

Vex shook the bag, getting a feel for its weight. "This is maybe a pound, a pound and a half, maybe? I'd say about five grand. Maybe more if we can sell it based on quality."

The news was about what Lauren expected. She wasn't too naive to believe she'd make back all the money in one day. With the cuts considered, it would probably take her several more outings to make enough to cover the twelve thousand dollar hospital bill due at the end of the month.

"Can you get enough Sudafed for me to make ten pounds?" Lauren asked.

Vex's eyes tore away from the bag, and he narrowed his eyes at Lauren, trying to read her motivations. "Sure. I definitely could, but all that takes time, you know. A batch like what I gave you today normally takes a couple of weeks to get a hold of."

"I don't really have that kind of time."

"What kind of time _do_ you have?"

Lauren took a deep breath. "I need it by the end of the month." A silence enveloped the room at Lauren's words, and Vex eyed her warily.

"You know what happened to the last person I heard talk like that?" Vex asked seriously. Lauren shook her head. "He had a bunch of thugs after him, and he couldn't pay them off. They killed him, Mrs. L… Anton was one of my best mates, and those fuckers murdered him."

Kenzi closed her eyes and looked pointedly down at the floor. She was clearly trying to hide her tears, but the infinitesimal shakes reverberating through her body gave her away.

"I'm not trying to open any old wounds, and I have no enemies chasing me," Lauren placated. "Life has just dealt me more than I can handle. If I don't pay, it won't just be me that's suffering. It will be the people that I care about — the people that depend on me," she said, her throat starting to constrict as the faces of her mother and Bo came vividly to mind. "And I don't want that to happen to either of them."

Vex studied Lauren closely, looking for any signs of deception. Lauren felt incredibly vulnerable under his gaze, especially since she'd just told him her reasons for coming to them in the first place. His expression softened after several moments, apparently not finding any signs of a lie.

"You're a good person, Mrs. L," Vex told her.

"…But?" Lauren supplied for him, sensing the inevitable word coming.

"But as much as I wish I could promise you what you want… I can't." Lauren's face fell at the news. "There are never any guarantees with how much precursor you can get or how much you can sell. Even if you did manage to make ten pounds for us, we probably still couldn't sell it all without getting our heads blown off by Massimo's goons. They run most of the city, and we have to be careful not to step on their turf."

The words were like a physical blow to Lauren's stomach. Even after all of this, she _still_ wouldn't have enough. At least Vex didn't seem vindictive about it. His expression was understanding, and for Lauren, that almost made it worse — having a former student of hers see her in such a compromised position.

"There might be another way though," he added. Lauren didn't dare let the tiny spark of hope ignite inside, lest she be disappointed again. "One of my old friends is richer than most people in town. But he deals mostly in ecstasy, so he pretty much stays off Massimo's radar. If I showed him this, he might be willing to make an — _investment_ — in the future of a brilliant manufacturer."

"Really? He's an ecstasy dealer?" Lauren asked incredulously.

Vex said: "I wouldn't be judging him so harshly. After all, people in glass houses shouldn't be throwing stones. Nobody on this earth is completely pure and innocent, Mrs. Lewis. Not even you."

"I'm sorry. Just… What makes you think he will help me?"

"Like I said, it's an investment. He's done it with other people before. He'd front you a ton of cash, and you'd have to do some work on the side for him — that's the return on the investment."

It seemed simple enough, but Lauren had the nagging feeling that there was more to it than that. Nothing was ever so straightforward, especially when large sums of money were involved. That much she knew from firsthand experience.

"I'll consider it, Vex. Thank you," Lauren finally said. There was no commitment yet, but it still left the door open for the possibility later on, should she need it. Vex seemed pleased by the fact that she was at least considering the option at all. "Kenzi?"

"Hmm?" Kenzi glanced up, and while there were no tears now, Lauren noticed that here eyes were slightly red from earlier.

"I'll see you tomorrow?" Lauren asked tentatively.

"See you tomorrow."


	8. Blackjack

The only other time Bo had been fired from a job in the past was after the first night she and Lauren slept together. She was fresh out of college and still working as a bartender, and Lauren was working on her master's degree. The first time Lauren got a few days of break from school… Well, Bo took full advantage of that, even ignoring two days of shifts in favor of not leaving Lauren's bed. Apparently, managers didn't like it when their employees blew off their work and didn't even bother calling in sick.

It was a fair trade off, Bo recalled fondly. Even after losing her job, she'd still gotten the best part of the deal. She'd secured another bartending position within a week, and she and Lauren had been together ever since. It was the only time Bo could say she was glad to be fired, especially now that today marked the second time it happened.

The Malikovs didn't take the news of the incident well. For them, it signaled the end of their connections with their daughter — and the end of their hopes to benefit financially. They made sure to mention that if Kenzi was onto Bo's actions, then she would never truly be caught. However, Bo wasn't sure if the statement was a slight against her skills, or if it was a testament to just how skilled Kenzi was at living under law enforcement's radar. Whichever it was, it didn't affect the outcome either way. Mrs. Malikov informed Bo that her contract was terminated effective immediately. Bo suspected that it might happen when she called the woman, but it didn't lessen the blow any more.

Unfortunately for Bo, she couldn't dull the pain by immediately throwing herself into work. There was none to be done at the moment. She did all that she could though. She called the state's private investigator directory to have her name added to the available list and called the newspaper to have a small advertisement placed in the classifieds section for any immediate, smaller jobs. Those didn't pay nearly as much, but they were good for quick and easy cash with a high success rate. With Bo's recent track record, she could probably use some of those cases just to boost her confidence again.

For the rest of the afternoon, she simply waited for the phone to ring.

It did, a few times. The first phone call was a creditor, reminding Bo that she and Lauren needed to make a minimum payment on their credit card balance. She ended that conversation as quickly as possible. But the second conversation was bizarre.

It was a job offer — or at least, it sounded like one. The woman she spoke to on the phone was incredibly cryptic and didn't provide much detail when Bo asked her questions. The only information Bo got from the exchange was that it was a high end law firm, and that her assistance was needed as part of a client's service package. She was given a meeting time in just a couple of days and instructed to arrive promptly — and then the woman simply hung up. Bo still had all sorts of questions left unanswered, but when she attempted to call back, the call dropped. It happened so suddenly that Bo almost convinced herself that she hallucinated the entire conversation. But in the interest of her work, she programmed the date and location in her phone to remind herself of the upcoming appointment.

The rest of the afternoon passed slowly and painfully. Bo had the television on, but she wasn't paying much attention to it. She kept stealing glances at the clock , willing for it to move faster. Lauren only told her that she needed to run errands after school; there was no mention of how long she'd be gone. She didn't expect her home by five o'clock by any means, but as the hour hand continued to wind around to six — then seven — then eight… Bo started to get worried. She sent Lauren a couple of messages but didn't hear back, and every time she rang her, Lauren never picked up.

With all of the issues they'd both gone through recently, Bo's mind instantly jumped to worst case scenarios. Car accidents, muggings — essentially anything that involved Lauren getting physically hurt in some way. Those were literally the images that haunted Bo's nightmares, and she had a hard time suppressing them now. She worked herself into such a state that she didn't even realize she was pacing up and down the living room.

"Bo? Are you okay?" It was the voice Bo had been hoping for, and the sound of it brought a rush of relief. She stopped dead in her tracks, whipping her head toward the entranceway to find the woman it belonged to.

"Lauren," Bo sighed. "Thank God."

The response to go to Lauren, to hug her tightly, was completely involuntary. When Bo worked herself into a state like she'd done, it was the quickest way to reconcile those emotions. The physical feeling of Lauren pressed against her was enough to temper them, make them bearable again. Bo probably squeezed her tightly enough to knock the breath from her body, but Lauren still allowed her hand to stroke her back.

"Bo, what's wrong?" Lauren asked worriedly.

"It's nothing." Bo's face was buried into Lauren's neck, and even _she_ realized that her words were totally unconvincing.

"It's _not_ nothing." Lauren pulled away, allowing their eyes to meet. "What's bothering you?"

"It was stupid." Bo shook her head. The look she was getting return was stern, however. "It's just — I wasn't expecting you out so late, and when you didn't answer my calls or answer my messages, I guess I let my imagination get a little carried away."

"I'm sorry about not answering, hon. It was just a couple of hours though… Did you really think something that bad could've happened in such little time?"

"Yes."

"Well, I'm fine Bo." Lauren smiled before leaning in to kiss the tip of her wife's nose. "I promise."

The contentment Bo felt at the simple interaction served to distract her from much of the turmoil she'd faced today and yesterday. But the initial elation at having Lauren back home would only last so long before reality started to set in again. She'd been taken off the Malikov case, and she was currently jobless. With their current struggles, matters weren't looking good for her or Lauren. Her concerns must have been etched all over her face because Lauren read them like a book.

"How did your call go today?" she asked.

_Best to just rip it off like a band-aid_, Bo thought. "I got taken off the case."

Bo kept her expression as even as possible. The one advantage of Lauren getting home late was that she'd already had time to process the news, and the initial distress it caused had already passed. She was still upset, but the wounds weren't as fresh.

Lauren searched her eyes cautiously. "Are you okay?"

"I'm not a hundred percent, but I'll manage. Besides, I may have gotten another offer today…" She frowned as she reflected on the conversation. "Maybe… I think…"

Lauren chuckled softly. "Well, that sounds promising," she joked. She allowed her arms to drift down around Bo's waist, and she gave her a light squeeze to tease her.

"It was a little weird. The details were kind of sketch, but other than that — I have a meeting downtown to talk about a potential job."

"I'm proud of you," Lauren smiled.

The words made Bo's stomach flutter. They were just what she needed to hear, and now that she had, everything started to feel less scary now. The situation was manageable, the world was not ending, and she and Lauren would get to face another day together.

"Enough about me," Bo said, grinning. "You were gone for a while. What did you get up to today?"

Lauren's eyes flickered away at the question, and Bo didn't miss it. She continued to watch Lauren carefully.

"I've been trying to get our finances squared away."

"And?" Bo pressed. She ran one of her hands down Lauren's back in an attempt to get her attention, but she still wouldn't meet Bo's gaze.

Bo frowned at her nonresponse. There were only a few reasons that Lauren would react this way to her question. The one Bo was most familiar with was Lauren being mad at her for some reason or another. But Bo quickly nixed that idea because she was acting completely fine not even a minute ago. The only other options were her either being upset or hiding something — and there was only one person Bo knew of that would elicit both of those reactions from her wife. It was someone her wife had not only visited recently, but had also considered asking for a job barely even a couple of weeks earlier.

Isaac _fucking _Taft.

Lauren had been evasive when she went to pick her up a few days ago, and Bo still hadn't gotten the full story on that incident yet. She'd nearly forgotten about it until now. For the longest time, Lauren always avoided talking about him around Bo. To some extent, Bo understood why: She was liable to tune out anything Lauren was saying and let herself be overtaken by rage whenever she even mentioned him, but for the most part, Bo felt her own feelings were completely validated. While Lauren never liked him, she was more often willing to give him the benefit of the doubt, unlike Bo. The bastard truly didn't deserve any of it.

And now, it sounded as if Lauren was colluding with him without even speaking to Bo first! She understood that she and Lauren were in a desperate situation financially, but the possibility that she was turning to him as a solution stung sharply. The silence hung heavily between them for a few seconds longer, and eventually she couldn't stand it anymore.

"Oh Lauren, please tell me you didn't…" Bo shook her head, willing for her assumptions to be untrue. "Please tell me that you didn't go to _Taft_, of all people…"

Lauren finally glanced back to Bo's eyes, and blinked a couple of times, almost as if she didn't understand what Bo was talking about. But not even a moment later, her eyes darted back down to the tiny space between them, and she bit her bottom lip. It was Lauren's guilty tell, and unfortunately it told Bo everything she needed to know.

"I can't believe it," Bo whispered to herself.

"Bo, listen to me. It's not — it's not what you think."

Bo couldn't control the nauseous feeling that crept into her stomach. Lauren had gone to _literally_ her worst enemy to help salvage their financial situation. Part of her was angry that Lauren didn't tell her, but another sizable part felt completely worthless. Bo hadn't made many changes in her routine to accommodate their struggles, yet Lauren had. To Bo, it was the most distasteful option available available to them, and Lauren had done it unquestioningly. But what could Bo really complain about? She'd made no changes to address their problems, and Lauren had. As horrible as it seemed and as much as Bo wanted to be angry about it, she couldn't. It wouldn't be fair.

Seeing the shift in Bo's mood, Lauren jumped in quickly: "I'm not—"

"Look, It's fine. I understand why you did it," Bo continued. "It just… It hurts that you didn't feel like you could come talk to me about it first, you know? I thought we were figuring this out together…"

"We are, Bo."

"It doesn't always feel that way. Lately, it feels like I'm the last one to know when anything is going on. If we're going to be in this together, then you have to talk to me, Lo. I can't help if I don't know what's happening."

Lauren swallowed and pressed her lips together, taking a moment before speaking again. "I'll try to get better at that. I can't say that I won't mess up again — but if I do, it won't be on purpose."

"I just don't want us to wake up one morning seven years from now and be complete strangers because we never bothered to talk anymore. We went through a little bit of that already, and I don't think I could bear it again."

Lauren's brows furrowed, and a pained expression passed over her face. As ever, she was well practiced in controlling her emotions, so it was gone nearly as fast as it appeared. But Bo certainly saw it.

"I won't let that happen," Lauren said resolutely. "I promise."

* * *

Six hundred and sixty-two grams, or just a little under one and a half pounds.

That would equate to about seven thousand dollars before cuts were made. After the profits were divided, Lauren would see almost two thousand dollars of that money. It wasn't bad for a couple days of work with Kenzi, but there were certainly problems.

Firstly, this afternoon, Lauren exhausted Vex's supply of precursor. There wouldn't be any more for at least a few weeks — not until Vex worked enough shifts at the airport to take as much as he needed. By his estimates, that could be as long as a few weeks. _Weeks_. Those were something Lauren didn't have. She couldn't afford to spend that time waiting, while doing nothing to address her financial concerns. That was the purpose of this arrangement in the first place. It had the _potential_ to solve her problems, but the returns weren't living up to her expectations. That led to the realization of Lauren's second problem — and arguably the bigger of the two.

Even if she was able to obtain the twelve thousand dollars to pay the hospital bill in a couple of weeks, she would still eventually be struggling to make ends meet. This was only the initial burden. Her mother started her new treatments this week, and once those bills started arriving, even the current rate at which she was profiting wouldn't be enough. The five thousand dollar per pound pricing was due to the constraints on the buying pool, as Vex later explained. They had to charge lower prices to secure their deals because of the hold Massimo had on the market, and they also sold less volume because people on the streets feared being caught buying anything other than Massimo's product. But to finance her life, Lauren needed for her, Vex, and Kenzi to increase their output and increase their selling power.

Using Sudafed was one of the easiest ways to manufacture methamphetamine, but it was by no means the only one. Unfortunately for Lauren, however, Vex didn't have access to any other materials. She was confident that she could work as efficiently as anyone in a lab, but she was hampered by the current process. They needed to find a way to be competitive with Massimo to make money. That required them to make more and to acquire more customers.

Lauren made it a habit to stop by Kenzi's house for the past couple of days, mostly to stay apprised of what was happening. This time though, there was nothing. No news, no plan — just waiting for the next move. That wasn't what Lauren wanted to hear.

When Vex updated her, Lauren promptly moved to their old tattered couch to think. Had she been paying attention, she might have thought twice about it. There was no telling how old it was or how many spills it had suffered during its obviously long life. The idea of her clean pressed slacks touching the surface would have been a nightmare for a hygienic person such as Lauren, but she was far too distracted to take notice.

"I can't do it," Lauren said out loud for the first time. "No matter what happens, it's not going to be enough."

Kenzi was perched in the arm chair across from her, and though she didn't say anything, she did at least give Lauren a sympathetic look. Since they'd spent more time together, Kenzi was decidedly less cross with her. They weren't friendly, by any means, but their interactions lacked the open hostility that were their earlier trademark. Vex stood by in the space between, the three of them forming a triangle in the semi-dark living room.

"What do you want to do?" Vex asked her.

"Honestly?" Lauren said, with an ironic chuckle. "The funny thing is that if I had actually taken the job at Taft Chemicals, I would have the credentials to order methylamine in bulk. That could keep me busy for months. It's like fate is literally out to screw me."

Vex frowned, scratching his beard. "How do you get that stuff? The methy-whats-it?"

"Methylamine?"

"Yeah, that."

"Only accredited chemical and industrial companies can get it. It's not even something I can get at the school," Lauren said. "I mean, I know how to synthesize it from methanol, but for enough to have a steady supply, I would need about a thousand gallons of the stuff. I'm pretty sure there would be federal agents knocking on my door within a day if that happened."

"Hmm." Vex's shoulder's drooped.

He was also interested in making more money, Lauren understood, but for entirely different reasons. He'd never been someone that _had_ money to begin with. For Vex, money represented safety, comfort, and happiness. It wasn't exactly a healthy relationship to wealth, but dire financial constraints warped the way people thought about money and changed the lengths they would go to get it, as Lauren could very well attest to. She hated that currency was starting to represent the same exact thing to herself, but there wasn't much she could do about it.

"So I guess I need to see your friend," Lauren concluded, after finishing her thoughts to herself. It was — at least for the moment — the only way out of their predicament.

"Had a feeling you might say that. I guess we're in for a trip downtown, then."

Vex volunteered to drive there, since he was familiar with the area more than Lauren was. Kenzi joined him up front, and Lauren tagged along awkwardly in the back. The positioning allowed for Vex and Kenzi to chat amongst themselves for the majority of the way, but it also allowed Lauren to think.

She needed to have a clear idea of what her boundaries would be going in: what she would be willing to do, and the exact point she would decline the offer. Vex seemed to think he was a good guy, but in this business, "good" was a relative term. Vex's idea of a good guy might not be Lauren's idea of a good guy, and even then, there was always the possibility that someone was never as good as they seemed externally to others. A person's goodness was sometimes easy to fake, especially to those who were practiced in fooling others. That's why Lauren had to pay extra careful attention to every single word he said. She had to read between the lines and decipher any hidden meanings behind his offer, so she didn't get caught unawares.

"You're awfully quiet back there," Vex said, casting a glance back at Lauren through the rear view mirror.

"Just thinking."

"Yeah well… I just hope you're not having any second thoughts," Vex sighed. "I already called Ba'al to tell him we were coming over. If we didn't show, I don't think he'd give the opportunity again." He gave her a pointed look from the mirror.

Vex didn't say the exact words, but the message was clear: This is a one-time offer. Fuck it up or blow it off, and there won't be another one.

Lauren nodded in understanding.

"Glad that's cleared up," Vex nodded curtly in return. "And you'd best put on your game face, 'cause we're here, Mrs. L."

He stopped his car in front of a shabby little house and cut off the engine. It had some homey touches, like the aged awnings overhanging the windows and the planters mounted below. But there were no plants growing inside, the paint was peeling in most places, and the windows themselves were covered in heavy metal bars, as was common in many places in the inner city. The visual effect was jarring, a reminder of where they were and the high crime rate in this part of town. Lauren swallowed thickly. She would need to keep her wits about her if she was going to strike a deal that would benefit her, and she would need to appear cool and collected in front of this Ba'al character.

Before Vex even knocked at the door, it was opened by two ominous looking figures. Each of them was at least twice as big as Lauren and Kenzi put together. They were posed aggressively, obviously expecting trespassers.

"We're here to see Ba'al," Vex said, breaking the silence. "He's expecting us. Can you tell him Vex is here?"

One of the two men left, leaving the other to remain guarding the door. He eyed Lauren suspiciously. His questioning gaze made her uncomfortable, and suddenly Lauren realized why he singled her out of the group. Having just come from school, she was the only one that was still wearing business clothes. Her pristine slacks and flowing dress shirt were a stark contrast to what Vex and Kenzi were wearing. She stuck out like a sore thumb, and he probably assumed that she'd gotten lost.

The guard that left returned moments later. "He's in the back room, to your left," he said, mostly to Vex.

All three of them were allowed passage inside. Vex led the way, since he appeared to know exactly where they were headed, and Lauren and Kenzi tagged along behind him.

"Ah, Vex," came a deep, smooth voice from inside the room. Lauren couldn't see the person it belonged to yet because Vex's back was blocking her view. "It's good to see you again."

"It's always a pleasure," Vex replied.

"So, you said that you have a proposition I might be interested in. I'll admit, I'm intrigued. You do remember that I only accept proficient individuals into my business, correct?"

"This one's the best." Vex reached deep into the picket of his leather jacket, pulling out a tiny bag of the unsold product Lauren made yesterday and tossing it forward. "That's the purest shit I have ever seen. With all the garbage floating around on the street, you could charge premium prices for that stuff. All the high society tweaks will be all over it; you could make a fortune."

There was a pause as Ba'al examined the bag, and Lauren still couldn't see him to gauge his reaction. She hoped that he was impressed by it but was overwhelmed with anxiety because she simply didn't know. His voice wasn't menacing, but it held an air of authority that was intimidating. Lauren needed his approval and needed form him to be open to the idea of her working for him.

"Who made this?" Ba'al asked softly.

Vex stepped into the room and off to the side, leaving Lauren standing in the doorway with Kenzi halfway behind her. Neither of them said anything. They were both too shell shocked to even move, and they stood there awkwardly unmoving, waiting for Ba'al to respond.

He was as physically intimidating as his voice sounded. His entire face was covered by fierce looking scars from previous fights, and his brow was so prominent that it nearly obscured his dark eyes. The most prominent scar was clean across his brow, apparently from some sort of knife wound. He would be the _last_ person Lauren would want to cross on on a dark street.

"This is Mrs. Lewis," Vex supplied, seeing as how Lauren continued with her silence.

Ba'al narrowed his dark eyes at her clean cut appearance. "You look lost, Lewis."

"I was just coming from my other job," Lauren replied, finally finding her voice.

"Well, we all have to keep up appearances, I suppose." He held up the tiny clear bag for Lauren to see. "Did you make this?"

"I did."

"Where did you learn to make this? Who taught you?"

"Nobody around here taught me. I was a year and a half away from getting my doctoral degree in organic chemistry at Yale."

Ba'al leaned back in his chair, regarding Lauren for a moment. He wasn't looking at her in disbelief, only a mild curiosity. Out of all the stories he'd heard in his time, Lauren was sure he hadn't heard that particular one before. Had she been in his position, she might not have believed herself.

"I guess that explains a lot, then." Ba'al's eyes raked down Lauren's form slowly. Lauren tried not to shudder in discomfort, but her hands did unconsciously fidget at the unwelcome attention. "I think it's probably you're first time around these circles so let me make a few things clear — if I may."

Lauren nodded.

"I'm aware of how I may appear to you, but as long as you play by the rules, you shouldn't have any reason to fear me," he continued. "The rules are simple: You don't tell your friends about this operation, and you don't short me product. Assume what you want about people in this line of business, but we do have a code. I won't have snitches and thieves working underneath me. Is that understood?"

"Yes… What are the terms of your arrangement?"

This is what Lauren was more concerned about. She had no intent to cheat Ba'al out of anything, and she already was used to keeping these activities a secret. Lauren was more worried that Ba'al would ask her to do too much, or that he would have her do something that would be too conflicting morally. She only signed up for the chemistry — never anything more.

Ba'al sat upright again, meeting Lauren's questioning eyes with a hard gaze. He said: "I would need five pounds a week. You would have all the materials you needed, and you would work in a place that I set up for you. I'm willing to put down twenty-five thousand dollars up front, and after that, you'd get twenty percent."

Lauren could manage to make five pounds a week, but there realistically weren't enough hours in the day to do it without being noticed. She was already pushing her luck with how many hours she was spending away from home. Anything further, and she'd have to spend nights away too.

"What about my job?"

Ba'al grinned. "That's not my problem, Lewis. The offer stands as is. You can choose to either take it or leave it, but it's not going to get any better than what I've just said."

"And if I wanted to get out of the arrangement?"

"You would need to finish the amount for the next deal, and then you would be free to go."

Except for the amount of time she would be expected to work, the deal sounded too good to be true. Everything would be supplied for her, and all she had to do was work in a lab. Lauren didn't have any horrible qualms about that.

"What's the catch?" Lauren asked with a frown.

"There is no catch."

Lauren waited for his dark eyes to betray any falsehood, perhaps just a flicker of deceit. Nothing came, however, and Lauren couldn't spot anything wrong with what he offered. She would probably have to take a leave of absence, but she could do that without a problem. The promise of twenty-five thousand dollars in her pocket was the most attractive option she'd heard so far.

Lauren cleared her throat. "Well in that case," she said, "I think we have a deal."

Ba'al held his hand out toward Lauren to seal the offer, signaling for her to step forward. She did so slowly, but not before casting uneasy glances toward Kenzi and Vex. He nodded her forward with a single movement of his head. Lauren eyed his hand closely, noting some of the same scars along his wrists. One of them cut across a tattoo on his forearm — an Ace and a Jack of Spades. She almost didn't see it against his dark skin, but the shapes were unmistakable.

Lauren grasped the proffered hand, feeling the roughened skin against her own. Ba'al held her hand in place firmly. He was looking up at her, and for the first time, she could see his deep eyes completely.

"I think we're both going to like this arrangement, Lewis," Ba'al said, smiling widely at her.

* * *

Bo wasn't sure what she was doing in the lobby of this building. This was the address she'd been given, though, and the woman sitting at the front desk instructed her to wait in one of the chairs in the waiting area. She'd received the phone call from a law firm, but there were no signs out front detailing what type of business this was. It could have been anything, as far as she knew. The meeting with her potential new client was supposed to start forty-five minutes ago, and she'd yet to hear anything about a cancellation or a rescheduling.

She started to entertain the idea that maybe this was all a hoax. Or maybe, it had started with intentions to hire Bo, but something in the past two days had changed without her knowledge. At Bo's request, Lauren gave her extra kisses this morning for good luck. However, good luck wouldn't benefit Bo much if her client never showed to arrange a contract. She'd let herself get excited about the prospect of another job a couple of days ago, and with each minute that passed, her anxiety grew. Bo still seriously needed this job.

"Mrs. Dennis?" The woman at the front desk called out unnecessarily. There was nobody else in the lobby.

"Yes?"

"You may head back to the office now." She nodded her head toward the ornate wooden double doors at the end of the lobby.

The sight on the other side of the doors was not what Bo expected at all. It was clearly an office, that much she could tell from the giant mahogany desk in the center of the room, but the rest of the decor was strange. There were elegant columns lining the edge of the circular room, and directly behind the desk there was a huge portrait of who Bo could only assume was the woman it belonged to. Unfortunately, there was nobody else here.

She didn't take a seat in one of the chairs at the desk. She hadn't been invited, and in any case, she still didn't know what exactly she was doing here. There would be discussion of a job, clearly, but beyond that, Bo had no idea what to expect. She strolled around the room, taking note of the items hanging from the wall. One in particular caught her eye. It was a degree of some kind, and Bo read the scripted text on the page.

_The Board of Regents by virtue of the authority vested in it by law and on recommendation of the University Faculty does hereby confer upon Evony Fleurette Marquise who has satisfactorily completed the studies prescribed therefor the degree of Juris Doctor with all Rights, Privileges, and Honors thereunto appertaining._

So, her potential new client was a definitely a lawyer then, Bo realized — it wasn't just grunt work for a law firm. It wasn't out of the ordinary for private investigators to be hired by law firms, especially on matters that weren't criminal offenses or when they didn't want to involve police for some reason. But Bo had never been hired by a lawyer before, and she wondered what she would possibly be asked to do.

"I'm pretty impressive, aren't I?" A familiar voice called out behind her. Bo instantly recognized it as belonging to the mysterious woman she'd spoken to on the phone, and when she turned around, she also recognized the woman whose portrait was hanging behind the desk.

"I take it you are Ms. Marquise?" Bo asked.

"Ugh, for fuck's sake, no." She turned her nose up and shook her head. "Call me Evony. Sit down." She motioned to the chair in front of the desk before plopping down in the high backed leather chair behind the desk.

Bo did exactly as she was instructed, resting her weight in the cushioned visitor's armchair. It typically would have been an extravagance in an office, but like everything else here, it didn't seem out of place at all. Even Evony's dress was over the top. The tight red cocktail skirt was more befitting a high class party than a day at the office, and the heels she wore — the high stilettos could have been used as a weapon if she desired it.

"I suppose you wonder why I asked you to come here," Evony said once Bo settled in her seat.

"You could say that. You didn't exactly give me a lot to go on."

"Yes, well…" She smiled the most fake smile Bo ever witnessed, and her wavy brown hair bounced as she moved her head. "That was intentional, sweetheart."

"Meaning?"

Evony tapped her long, painted fingernails on top of her desk. "Meaning that I'm not going to give you sensitive details about my client's business over the phone without some guarantee that you won't go running your mouth to half the city."

"So if you don't trust me, then why did you call me?"

"Because I'm in need of private investigative services and you were literally the only available private investigator on the registry within a fifty mile radius."

"Thanks for being honest," Bo scoffed.

Evony smiled sweetly at her and said: "Honey, if you can't take the cold, hard truth every now and then, I think you may be in the wrong profession."

Bo already decided that she and Evony weren't going to get along well. It was a personality clash: Both needed to feel as if they were on top in any given situation, yet it was impossible for them. They would probably always be bickering with each other. Instead of continuing the cycle, Bo pressed on.

"What is it that you need from me?" Bo asked.

"It's simple," Evony replied, the smile going away only to be replaced by a serious, businesslike expression. "One of my high end clients is being harassed by someone who is into illegal activities. But I can't take the complaints to law enforcement without implicating my client. What I would need you to do would be to dig up every ounce of dirt you possibly could on this asshole and then quite literally deliver him into police custody. I don't need those pricks digging around into my client's business."

"Sounds like your _client_ might be just as guilty as the guy you want me to go after." Bo narrowed her eyes at her, and for some reason, Evony's eyes lit up in amusement at Bo's statement.

"Everyone is guilty at some point in their lives, Bo — some are just worse than others."

"Yet you still want me to go work on one of your criminal clients' behalves."

Evony was growing increasingly irritated with Bo, she could tell. Bo knew she should probably back off if she still wanted to be considered for the job, but something inexplicable bothered her about Evony, and she couldn't control her emotions well around her.

"I've been practicing law for ten years," Evony said in a cold voice. "In those ten years, I've admittedly worked for quite a few people who've found themselves on the wrong side of the law. But to be perfectly honest with you, _they're_ not the biggest criminals I've seen. They may do any number of things that you or I might find distasteful, but there is still a code of conduct that they follow.

"The worst criminals I've seen are the ones that _pretend_ they're on the right side of the law. How do you think Massimo has had a run of this city as long as he's had without getting caught? He's killed countless people and has been indicted at least a dozen times with flawless evidence and testimony, but no charges have ever stuck. Have you ever wondered why that is? Who keeps him safe?" There was a pause as Evony let Bo ponder the question.

"I'll tell you who keeps him safe," Evony lowered her voice. "It's your friends over at the police department. Massimo keeps the captain paid in full, and the evidence mysteriously disappears. Witness tapes are suddenly several minutes shorter than before and missing key testimony. Forensic documents are either destroyed or altered. Everything surrounding the case goes missing, and the worst criminal in the state walks free."

Bo shook her head. "I don't believe you," she said. "I've worked with them. They would never do that."

"Believe it, sweetheart. One of my employees used to be a detective there and got fired because she called Captain McCorrigan out on it. She's extremely skilled, I have to admit," Evony said, leaning back in her chair. "It's a shame that she won't be able to work in law enforcement again. Tamsin's got a better head on her shoulders than most of the assholes still working at that shithole."

"Why not get _her_ to do your job?" Bo asked.

"Two reasons: Firstly, if I hire you, I get to write the expense off on my taxes. And secondly, the precinct is more likely to actually convict this bastard if _you_ bring him in."

That made sense, Bo realized. From what Evony said, this Tamsin person hadn't left the police force on the best terms, and she wasn't going to be met warmly if she brought someone in to be formally investigated. Bo still had a decent rapport with the detectives and uniformed cops there.

"So what are the details?" Bo asked.

Evony outlined the payment plan to Bo. In contrast to her earlier jobs, she would be contracted by the hour for her work, and she was surprised that Evony actually offered decent wages. Of course, there was a default penalty if Bo backed out of the arrangement before it was completed, but that was standard on consulting gigs. However, she didn't have any intent on walking out once she signed on the dotted line.

"This guy that I'm after is dangerous," Evony said once she'd finished explaining the financial details. "He's new on the scene — he's a long time dealer that just got bought out by Massimo, but the word is that he's going to be ascending quickly through the chain of command. He's smart and he's dangerous. He's been harassing my client, and this has culminated in threats against his life. I need it to stop, so you need to take care of this."

"What can you tell me about him?"

"All I know is that his turf is on the southwest side of downtown, between Fifth Street and Atkinson. That and his street name. Everyone on the outside calls him 'Blackjack.'"

"Any particular reason?" Bo frowned.

"Do I look like a goddamn fortune teller to you? You're a private investigator… If you want to know, then investigate."

Evony signed her portion of the contract she'd printed up and pushed it toward Bo, who stared at the blank space for her signature. It was a great opportunity, to be sure. It offered her a bit of excitement and the chance to rebound after the failed Malikov case. And on this case, the stakes were higher. She wouldn't be investigating teenage runaways; this was a hardened criminal working underneath one of the most feared individuals in the state. If Bo handled this correctly and word got around, there would be people lining up for her P.I. services.

Bo grasped the pen and hovered the tip above the paper for a moment before scribbling her loopy signature across the page. Evony's face lit up in bright smile, and this one was authentic. It actually reached her eyes.

"Excellent," Evony said with barely concealed excitement. "Now, go see Tiffany, and have her draw up the financial paperwork for you."

"Who?"

"Just go back out to the lobby," Evony shooed Bo out of the office with a wave of her hand.

Tiffany was the woman sitting at the front desk, Bo later realized. All Bo had to do was provide her banking information so that she could set up direct deposit, and while Tiffany was doing that, she waited in her previous seat.

A soft bell sounded later, signaling the arrival of another person. It was the first time Bo had heard it since she walked inside herself, and her head instantly perked up at the sound. A tall blonde strutted inside heading directly toward the front desk. Unlike Bo, she looked as if she knew exactly where she was and why she was here.

"Tiffany!" she called out loudly. The woman at the front desk was nowhere to be seen and had disappeared around the corner into the back with Bo's papers.

"I'll be back in a minute, Tamsin!" came the muffled reply from the back room.

So this was Tamsin, the woman Evony had been talking about. She definitely looked like she could have been a detective, simply by the manner in which she carried herself. Bo could only see her from the back, but her body language was intimidating. The tight bun at the back of her head was more utilitarian than stylish, and it suited her perfectly.

"So you're Tamsin?" Bo asked out loud. The women turned around quickly, surprised that there was someone else in the office.

"In the flesh. You must be one of the new hires," Tamsin said, narrowing her light green eyes and giving Bo a quick once over. "Who are you, and what are you getting brought in for?"

"My name's Bo. I'm a private investigator."

"Ah, well… Good luck with that." Her tone was short and dismissive, and Bo didn't know what to make of it.

"What's it like — working for Evony?" Bo asked. She wanted a no bullshit answer, and Tamsin seemed like the type that wouldn't give her any bullshit.

"It's all right," Tamsin shrugged. "She can be a bitch, but she's always up front about it. You always know where you stand with her. I'd rather have that than someone working behind my back."

"You don't worry about — I don't know — doing anything illegal here?" Bo asked. She wasn't sure how to phrase her question without sounding accusatory, but she did the best she could.

Tamsin chuckled darkly. "You need to realize something, Bo," she replied sharply. "Illegal doesn't always mean wrong, and legal doesn't always mean right. The law sometimes shits on people. It's not always about justice. When I first started working, I thought it was, but now I know better. I'd much rather work with someone who understands that than someone who doesn't. Evony has her faults, sure — but at least she gets that much. I can respect that."

Tamsin's face was hardened, and suddenly Bo could see the jaded cop who got burned by trying to do the right thing, how she still carried that around with her now. And for the first time, Bo really understood. Evony's client may have done some questionable things under the law, but this "Blackjack" character was much worse. He was one of Massimo's most promising subjects, and that alone should have been enough for Bo to decide to bring him down.

"I think I understand," Bo mused.

"Good," Tamsin's voice lost its hard edge. "What is she having you do? Case-wise, that is?"

"I'm investigating a drug dealer to bring charges against him for the police."

"Oh yeah? I used to work those cases. Who is it?"

"Some dealer, goes by the name 'Blackjack.'" Bo answered. Tamsin stiffened at the name, and looked at Bo incredulously. She must have had a run-in with him before for his name to elicit that kind of reaction. "I take it you've heard of him?"

Tamsin's voice was barely a whisper: "You could say that."

"Well do you have any advice?"

"Yeah, I've got some advice for you," Tamsin said seriously. She stepped past Bo, brushing against her shoulder. "Don't get dead."


	9. Crimson

Tamsin stalked into the office and slammed the double doors closed behind her. She glared at Evony, who only smiled cheekily in return.

"What do you think you doing?" Tamsin snapped at her.

Evony's smile only grew wider. "Whatever do you mean?"

This was a game the two of them had played numerous times. Despite voluntarily working together, their business relationship was actually quite dysfunctional. Tamsin strode over to the finished wood desk, pushing aside the leather chair that was blocking her way. Her palms slammed hard against the smooth surface and leaned over to push her face forward angrily. Evony didn't even flinch.

"I mean — Why are you sending her in after him?! I'm perfectly capable of handling it myself!"

Evony regarded Tamsin with something like amusement. She watched her face thoughtfully, as if the fact that their faces were only inches apart didn't bother her in the slightest. The non-reaction flustered Tamsin further, and it only got worse when Evony reached up to pat the side of Tamsin's face jokingly. The tall blonde swatted her hand away in annoyance.

"Stop being so petulant, Tamsin," Evony scolded. "I know if there's anyone I can count on to bash his head in, it's you. But that's not what I'm after."

Tamsin didn't back away. "What game do you think you're playing at?"

"I need him behind bars. Then I need him to go before a jury so I can tear him to pieces. By the time I'm done with him, he's going to be singing, and I can't do that if he's permanently eating all of his meals through a straw." Evony gave her a pointed look.

The explanation was apparently satisfactory enough for Tamsin. It didn't challenge her abilities — on the contrary, Evony actually complimented Tamsin's skills in her own way. She pulled her face away and grabbed the seat opposite Evony's desk, kicking the heels of her boots up on top of her desk. The sight made Evony cringe.

"So…" Tamsin crossed her arms and leaned further back into the plush leather. "That's your plan then? Give Bo a baseball bat and tell her to go beat on a bunch of hornet's nests, hoping she doesn't get stung?"

"You're on a first-name basis already? Your concern is touching."

Tamsin ignored her. "You're aware that the last person who tried to bring him down is _literally_ at the bottom of the ocean serving as fish kibble, right?"

Evony chuckled. "How could I forget? The paperwork was a nightmare." She shook her head at the memory. "That's why I need you to tail her. Don't interfere. Just… Be inconspicuous, and make sure she doesn't get into too much trouble. She shouldn't even know you're there. Let her run the case."

"So you want me to babysit, then?" Tamsin scoffed. "Well thanks for nothing."

The glare Evony shot Tamsin in response was dangerous, and it was the only one that could ever get Tamsin to stop pestering her. She grew quiet at the severe look, so Evony took the opportunity to press forward.

"Listen, _sweetie_." Evony's voice was calm, but it was laced with venom. "I did you a solid by hiring you. Now, you won't be getting back onto the police force anytime soon, so unless you want to be working part time as a rent-a-cop at Walmart, then I'd suggest you do what I asked."

There was an awkward pause after Evony's ultimatum, but Tamsin eventually gave her a begrudging nod. Despite the agreement, however, she continued to glower at her employer. As if to continue rubbing it in Tamsin's face, Evony reached forward to knock Tamsin's boots from atop her desk.

"That's my girl," Evony teased. "Now go, do your job." Tamsin stood from her seat and headed toward the door, but just as she placed her hand on the brass doorknobs, Evony continued. "Oh and Tamsin?"

The tall blonde halted in her movements, slowly turning around to face Evony. "What?" she hissed.

"Try to smile more," Evony said with a smirk. "All that attitude will only give you wrinkles."

Tamsin stormed out of the office, slamming the doors behind her and leaving a chuckling Evony in her wake.

* * *

Efficiency had always been one of Lauren's trademarks. She'd only used three days of her sick leave, and in that short time, she'd already made the five pounds she'd promised Ba'al for the week. He wasn't lying when he said he'd keep her well-supplied with precursor either. Somehow, he managed to always have a inexhaustible supply of the necessary blister packets on hand, no matter how quickly she worked. If he was legitimately buying them, he must have had _at least_ a hundred people running those errands for him, each maxing out their monthly buying privileges at the corner drug stores. The thought made Lauren realize just how big the scope of this operation was. The idea of it was daunting.

The last batch for the week was hardening on the drying rack, and now that the fumes had dissipated, Lauren removed her mask. Ba'al certainly delivered on the amenities as well as the precursor — Lauren sent up a silent prayer of thanks for that small mercy. She no longer had to endure the stench of the landfill while she worked, for one thing, and as for another — well, Ba'al had already invested in a fume evacuator and several chemical suits for her own personal use. Lauren didn't even get those kinds of supplies at school, and she knew for a fact that they were horrendously expensive (at least for their simplistic design). The old warehouse she was using now was fairly nondescript, but Lauren didn't much care about that. It didn't draw attention to itself, which was the general idea behind it. Plus, she was given a small security detail to keep watch while she worked. For being in such a precarious position, Lauren felt surprisingly safe for the past few days.

"Are you nearly finished?" one of the members of her detail asked her. Lauren was finding it hard to keep all of their names straight, but she thought his name might have been Brett.

"It should be about fifteen more minutes before it's dry," Lauren answered. "Then I can start packaging it."

Brett nodded once before leaving Lauren alone at her workstation.

One downside to her current arrangement was the distinct lack of human contact. The only time she ever talked to other people during work now was when a member of her detail came to check in, and even then, the interactions were always truncated. It was far too lonely. The first couple of times she'd worked with Kenzi were happier times, now that she was looking at them in hindsight. The two of them hadn't necessarily been best of friends, but they got along well enough once they shared something in common. When Lauren offered to teach Kenzi what she wanted to know, she'd taken a keen interest in what she had to say. The last time they worked together — back before Lauren started her deal with Ba'al — Kenzi even cracked a joke in front of Lauren once to make her laugh. For someone like Kenzi, it was a momentous occasion, and now Lauren didn't even have those simple quips to look forward to anymore.

The lack of human interaction did have a silver lining, however. It provided Lauren with ample time to think. She already knew the steps to the chemical reactions so well that she could synthesize pure product subconsciously, which provided Lauren the opportunity to dwell on other matters. Namely, it was the situation with Bo that was first and foremost on her mind. Lauren had been beating herself up mentally for days after letting Bo believe that she was working for Taft. It was as good a cover story as any, but it still bothered her to repeatedly let Bo believe the falsehood. Lauren loved Bo completely. More than anything, she wanted to tell her the complete truth, but for Bo to continue living and breathing, she needed to keep her wife in the dark about her true duties. The Taft story would do the job just fine, but Lauren made a promise to herself to tell Bo whenever she was finished working with Ba'al. Bo deserved that much at least.

There were five pans on the portable drying rack, and Lauren took the ones from the bottom first to place them into their containers. Each pan contained precisely one hundred and eighty grams, and each bag would hold twenty-five grams apiece. It would have been easier to use larger bags, but as Ba'al explained, these were for direct marketing on the street, and therefore, they needed to be packed in smaller volumes.

This was perhaps she most tedious of Lauren's duties. She couldn't put too much or too little in any one of the bags, so she meticulously measured down to the last tenth of a gram as not to anger her boss. Lauren didn't think it mattered much though. If someone was going to be using twenty-five grams of methamphetamine and had the money to spend on it, the last fraction of a gram wasn't going to be noticed by the customer at all. She suspected it had more to do with Ba'al's concerns about theft. He really needn't worry about that though — not with Lauren. She had no desire to get involved in anything beyond making the stuff.

Ba'al's guards were just around the corner, so Lauren notified them when she was done packaging her day's yield. She would have offered to take it herself, but she learned the first day that _they_ were the ones that handled the the product once it left the confines of Lauren's makeshift lab. Lauren didn't care much one way or the other; whatever kept Ba'al satisfied and kept money flowing her way was perfectly agreeable to her.

As per usual, Lauren rode back to Ba'al's place with her security detail. The first time this happened, she was surprised then the all black SUV bypassed the worn down little house where she'd met Ba'al the first time. As she learned later, however, he didn't conduct much business out of his own home. Like any man of his station in a drug ring, he owned a seemingly legitimate business venture elsewhere, which is where he spent most of his time. In Ba'al's case, it was the Crimson Lounge, a rather dodgy-looking gambling and strip joint on the southern part of downtown. Thankfully, Lauren was only ever there before they started admitting patrons for the evening, so she never had to interact with its regular clientele. If they were anything like Ba'al himself, she wanted to avoid that if at all possible.

Ba'al was sitting in his usual spot in the largest back corner booth. He was busy talking with someone unfamiliar to Lauren, but as soon as he saw Lauren and her guards approaching, he waived off his current visitor and beckoned her forward. It was difficult to see his expression clearly in the dim lighting until she was standing directly in front of him.

"How are things progressing, Lewis?" Ba'al asked, not unkindly.

"I've finished with the week's supply," Lauren replied. "It's the last nine hundred grams, just as you asked."

Ba'al's scarred eyebrows raised at the news; after all it had only been three days, and he'd allotted Lauren seven to complete her task. He spotted her guards and beckoned them forward so he could inspect the contents of the box yet again. And yet again, this batch was a pure as the last. Lauren saw to that herself. Ba'al wouldn't simply take her word on the measurements though. He glanced to his guards as if to verify what she'd reported, and they all nodded in response.

"You've been very productive," Ba'al mused.

"As I've said before, I have more experience in a lab than most other chemists. It would have been difficult _not_ to develop that sort of efficiency considering my previous work."

"I see." Ba'al narrowed his eyes at her as if to study her more closely. His expression was unreadable, but she couldn't fathom a reason for him to anything other than pleased with what she'd accomplished. "That's good. So now it seems as if I can move along with my plan."

"Pardon?"

"I was just discussing your new product with one of my lead distributors. I provided him with one of your samples, and there's already a huge interest for it. He has his high society buyers lined up waiting to get their hands on some, and I'm afraid that the original five pounds a week isn't going to be enough to keep up with demand."

She frowned. "So what is the plan then?"

Lauren secretly hoped that he hired Lauren some additional help so she didn't have to spend more time at his warehouse. It was a nice enough setup, but even the usually introverted Lauren didn't think she could last many more hours without regular human contact of some kind. Being isolated for hours at a time end in an old, dark building and being unable to discuss it with anyone else was bad enough as it was with her current schedule.

"You will be making ten pounds per week now, effective immediately."

It was worse than Lauren expected. Ba'al apparently had no trouble getting her the materials she needed, but Lauren would still be the one putting in all the hours at his lab. She'd spent three solid days busting her ass to make the five pounds for this week, and now he wanted to double that amount. Lauren knew she was efficient, but there was a limit to her abilities, and he was dangerously close to reaching it. If she had industrial grade equipment, she could do more. But none of what she had at her disposal was designed for running reactions on a huge scale like Ba'al wanted.

"With all due respect, I think that's madness unless you intend to bring in someone else to assist me," Lauren said.

"You've already gotten half that amount done in three days. By that logic, you could realistically do what I asked of you in six days. I fail to see that as 'madness.'" He ran his fingers along the edge of his glass of whiskey on the rocks, wiping the condensation from its surface. "You've already proven you can handle that and possibly even more, so I'll be calling the shots from here on out."

"That's not what I agreed to. You said that it would only be —"

"I _said_ that you would honor whatever deals I made, Lewis," Ba'al sneered, and his voice raised dangerously. It was the first time he'd done so with Lauren, and the effect was frightening enough to make her hold her tongue. "That was originally five pounds per week, and now that deal is ten pounds per week. If that is unsuitable to you, then you may give notice now, but you will still finish what's left of my current order."

"How much is left?"

"A hundred pounds."

Lauren's heart sank. It was an impossible amount. The truly upsetting part was that she had no idea if it was a real number or not. For all she knew, it could have been some arbitrary number that Ba'al made up to guarantee that she stuck around for a long time. She had no leverage to use against him either to make him consider her side.

The twenty five thousand dollars was Lauren's selling point, but she was beginning to realize that perhaps she'd rushed into the arrangement without giving enough consideration to the potential ways Ba'al could have abused the terms of their agreement. She'd guaranteed that she had an out if she needed one, yet she didn't give enough thought to how it would play out in reality. Ba'al had promised that she would be free to leave the arrangement once she finished his current order, but there was no way for her to know _what_ those orders were. All she knew was what he told her; there was no other way of knowing what was really going on. She agreed to be the pawn, and in assuming that position, she'd given up all of her bargaining ability to Ba'al.

Lauren was seriously regretting her agreement now, even if he gave her the cash bonus today as he'd promised. In hindsight, she wished she would've negotiated more, brought a more equitable deal to the table. As it was, she would be making wages, but she had no freedom. If Ba'al changed his mind and said he needed twenty pounds a week, so be it. Lauren would need to find a way to comply with those demands. She could only hope he would be reasonable, but if he was as greedy as Lauren suspected he was, he wouldn't necessarily see logic in every situation. He would be single mindedly pursuing money — to hell with Lauren's physical limitations. And forget the fact that there were only twenty four hours in a day.

"I can handle ten pounds per week," Lauren said, keeping her voice as steady and confident as she possibly could. "I should tell you though — anything more than ten, and I don't think I'll be able to manage without an assistant." Lauren held her breath as she waited for his response.

Ba'al idly tapped his index finger on the smooth wooden table before picking up his glass and bringing it to his lips. The delay was tortuous for Lauren; every second he postponed answering it gave him more opportunity to consider why it wouldn't be in his best interests.

"I suppose that wouldn't be unreasonable," Ba'al said, to Lauren's great surprise. "But let's cross that bridge when we come to it. For now, it's ten a week, and you'll still get the same cut percentage."

Lauren nodded, and Ba'al signaled with a single motion of his hand for his guards to go to the back, behind the bar. She was just about to ask where they were going, but they reappeared moments later, toting a small duffel bag. The one Lauren thought might have been Brett handed the nylon strap to Lauren.

There were a number of twenty dollar bills inside. It was more cash than Lauren had seen at any one time, at least in person, though she was sure that to her present company, it probably seemed like chump change. But to Lauren, it meant something else entirely. It was enough to end her and Bo's imminent financial concerns (though there would be more further down the road). She would eventually need to address her problem of getting out from under Ba'al's control, but that didn't need to happen today. For now, this was enough. She'd bought herself and Bo more time, and that was what she'd originally set out to do.

Despite the implications of her interactions with Ba'al today, Lauren couldn't help but smile the entire way back to her house. She had something in abundance that she had very little of this morning, and that was hope. A lot of that was certainly related to the black tote bag that was lying in the passenger's seat, but it went further than that. Against insurmountable odds, Lauren had found a way to keep going, and that feeling wasn't quantifiable in dollars. The natural high from her accomplishment probably wouldn't last but a few hours, but Lauren was enjoying it while she could.

Instead of driving cautiously as she usually did, Lauren put the Camaro through its paces on the way home. A drive that usually took half an hour only took twenty minutes with Lauren's sudden speed craze. She needed to get home — to celebrate, to commiserate (Lauren didn't know which — maybe it was a little of both) — but it was mostly just to be with Bo again. When major life changes happened, Lauren found that she craved Bo's presence to share in the experience.

That had been part of the problem earlier between the two of them. The perspective of hindsight allowed Lauren to see that more clearly.

There used to be huge changes in her and Bo's lives happening every day, but some of those changes kept them away from each other in the past. Lauren's job switch, Bo working longer hours, Janine's increasing need for medical care… At every turn, Lauren and Bo were shifting aspects of their lives, but they hadn't made the time to connect with each other in between new phases. By the time their marriage nearly reached a tipping point, they almost felt like strangers. Not anymore though. Even though Lauren couldn't tell Bo what exactly what was going on, she wouldn't let a day go by where she wouldn't tell her how she _felt_. Today however, Lauren planned on _showing_ Bo more than telling her.

She threw the car in park soon as she pulled into the driveway, grabbing the duffel bag and throwing it over her shoulder as she rushed inside. Bo was perched on the couch with papers spread all over the coffee table, presumably for work. She seemed surprised to see Lauren back home so soon.

"Hey… Lauren," Bo smiled brightly at the sight of her favorite blonde, and she scooted over to make room for her on the couch.

She really needn't have bothered with that.

Lauren dropped the duffel bag in the entranceway before making a straight line toward her. Her eyes were blazing, and her wife definitely noticed it. She swallowed thickly at Lauren's approach, and her eyes grew wide in anticipation.

"Lauren?" Bo's voice was suddenly much hoarser than usual, and Lauren knew that only happened when Bo was extremely turned on. She gave herself a mental pat on the back as she closed the remaining distance between them in a few determined steps.

Bo wasn't necessarily ready for the Lauren's onslaught, but she did at least know it was coming. Even so, she still wasn't expecting for Lauren to straddle her on the couch or for her furious pace right off the bat. For the first few seconds, she struggled to keep up with the insistent movement of Lauren's lips on hers, and Bo had to grip her wife's shoulder's tightly just to keep them both steady and upright. Lauren didn't seem to have such reservations; she already had her own pants unbuttoned, and her hands were roaming wildly over Bo's body before settling underneath her shirt and creeping up the bare skin of her abdomen. Bo was eventually the one to break the kiss. They both were gasping for breath, yet Lauren actually appeared peeved that their progress had been stopped.

"What's gotten into you?" Bo asked, a hint of a grin playing at the corner of her mouth. She lowered her hands to Lauren's muscular thighs in her lap and gave them both a gentle squeeze.

Lauren narrowed her eyes at her. "Guess."

Bo smiled at Lauren's cheeky response, but that quickly turned into a gasp when Lauren gripped her hand and move it forcefully down the front of her pants and between her legs. Lauren closed her eyes once she'd gotten the contact she wanted, and Bo couldn't help but do the same. She wrapped her free hand around Lauren's back to pull their bodies more tightly together.

"Oh," Bo whispered, closing her eyes as if it were all too much to bear.

The blonde's hands drifted a little higher, dragging her fingertips along Bo's side until they reached the underside of her bra. The touches were clearly having the intended effect, and Bo looked as if she were about to completely lose herself to the sensation, so it was odd that she seemed to be holding back now. She was stroking Lauren gently but not with enough vigor for Lauren's taste. The blonde pulled insistently at the fabric of her bra. It got Bo's attention, and her eyes drifted back open to find Lauren's.

"You're not going to make me beg, are you?" Lauren asked.

Bo's didn't answer, but honestly, she didn't need to. Her eyes flashed, and with a single, smooth movement, she pressed her body up from the cushions, flipping them over so that Lauren's back landed on the soft surface. Their bodies were pressed together along the entire length of the couch, and Bo used the new positioning to her advantage.

Their clothes probably weren't going to make it off in time. The feeling of their bare skin pressed together would have been nice, but it was a superfluity that neither of them was willing to indulge in, not when it meant stopping what they were doing now. Bo had already started regular strokes between Lauren's thighs, and there was no way either of them were going to take a break from it. Lauren simply pushed up Bo's shirt above her breasts and moved the bra roughly out of the way to gain access to where she wanted. At the added contact, Bo lunged herself forward to capture Lauren's lips with her own.

It was a frenzied exchange, and like most things that were rushed and hurried, their coupling didn't last long. It realistically _couldn't_ last that long. They both had incredible stamina (as they'd proven over the years), but their current pace was unsustainable. The movements between them were too rough and too fast. It was clearly what both of them wanted though, so they weren't going to be left unsatisfied. Only minutes after their heated exchange started, Lauren's body was convulsing as she climaxed, and the sight was almost enough to bring Bo to the edge as well. She finished shortly after as she continued rubbing herself hard against Lauren's thigh.

Bo collapsed all of her weight on Lauren's body and rested her chin in the crook of Lauren's neck while her wife's head lolled lazily on the disheveled cushions. Both of them looked a mess after their activities and were breathing as if they'd just run a marathon. Even the usually clean cut Lauren didn't seem to care that Bo was wrinkling one of her favorite dress shirts as she laid on top of her. Bo still hadn't fixed her shirt either — apparently oxygen was the more immediate need.

"Oh my god," Bo whispered breathlessly once she was finally able to get words out of her mouth. Her arms hung loosely along Lauren's torso, and she didn't budge an inch.

"I know." Lauren's response was just as winded. After a moment, some of their strength returned, and though they were still exhausted, Bo managed to push her body up enough to look Lauren in the eyes.

"Not that I'm complaining at all, but what was that about?" Bo gave her a mischievous smile.

"I missed you today."

"Hmm… Long day?"

Lauren chuckled. "You literally have _no_ idea."

Bo smiled at Lauren's explanation initially, but after only a moment the smile was replaced by a more grave expression. The sudden shift was jarring, and Lauren didn't know what she'd said that could have triggered that particular reaction. Lauren lifted her hand to cup the side of Bo's face, using her thumb to stroke her cheek in a comforting gesture.

"Hey," Lauren soothed her. "What's wrong?"

"Did he, you know — _do_ anything today to upset you?" A worried look passed over Bo's eyes as she said the words aloud.

If there's one person in the universe Bo _didn't_ trust, it was Isaac Taft. He was certainly an asshole, that much Lauren knew from personal experience, but as far as Lauren could tell, he never projected those mean traits sexually. When Lauren came home desperate for Bo's touch after a day away from her — a day Bo assumed she was with Taft — she must have thought the worst, like perhaps Lauren was purging herself of something he'd done by throwing herself in bed with Bo. It couldn't have been farther from the truth, but Bo always tended to envision worst case scenarios by default — that, combined with her hatred and mistrust of Taft made for some scary ideas on Bo's part.

"Nobody did anything to me, Bo," Lauren assured her, shaking her head.

"Good." Bo's tone was lighter than her expression let on, but she did visibly relax at Lauren's words. "Because if he ever does, I'll kill him myself."

The look she got from Lauren was stern. "Bo."

"Okay fine, I'll settle for breaking his arm."

Lauren actually laughed at how adamant her wife was at causing her nemesis bodily harm. There wouldn't realistically be a need for it, mostly because she wasn't truly working around Taft, so Bo's threats served more as entertainment than anything else.

"I don't think you'll be needing to do that." She pinched Bo's cheek playfully, causing her wife to pull back and laugh. "It's not as bad as you think. I just did a lot of work today, hon — and I know I've been taking some of my sick leave, but I think I'm going to have to officially apply for sabbatical next week. And I need to get my mom's car fixed so I don't have to keep taking the Camaro away from you."

"Wow… So this is like, a long-term thing then?"

"It looks like it might be. Not permanent though — just for a while," Lauren said, causing Bo to sigh deeply. "But there _is_ something that happened today that might cheer you up."

"Oh yeah? What's that?"

Lauren smirked. "I got my twenty-five thousand dollar bonus."

She waited for Bo's response, but she was too stunned to react. Bo simply stared down at her and blinked several times in rapid succession, as if she couldn't believe what Lauren had just said. It was a look of pure astonishment, and Bo made it absolutely adorable.

"Bo? Did you hear me? I said I —"

"Holy shit," Bo gasped. The words were finally registering, and a grin slowly pulled at the corners of her lips, which eventually broke into a wide, toothy smile. "Holy shit!"

"So you see… Not everything is bad, you know?"

Bo shook her head, though the wide smile stayed firmly in place. "You're amazing."

"I know," Lauren said, grinning back at her.

Bo reached up to tickle Lauren's midsection, causing the blonde to flail wildly. Though she tried to escape Bo's finger's as they teased the side of her torso and under her arms, she couldn't. Bo still had her pinned against the couch with her body in the same haphazard position as before. After Bo drew sufficient giggles from her wife, she relented and allowed her to relax again.

"You know what this means, tight?" Bo asked. "It means that we figured it out — _you_ figured it out — the hospital bill, the house, everything." She gazed at Lauren in pure awe and leaned down to press a single kiss against her lips. When she pulled away, she kept her eyes closed for a moment and pursed her lips together, savoring the kiss a few seconds longer.

"It's still a temporary measure," Lauren corrected her. "But I won't deny that it helps — _a lot_."

Lauren didn't want to falsely elevate Bo's hopes. This wasn't the end of their problems, and they'd have to find new ways to adapt once the bills got worse — Bo with her jobs, and Lauren with her new secret profession. But she'd just hit Bo with some pretty big and happy news, and it was clear that all she wanted to do was celebrate a little bit more. The way that Bo was looking at her, Lauren knew that she wasn't really going to hear anything else she said.

No, there was only one thing on Bo's mind right now: how quickly they could get out of their clothes fully and back to the bedroom. Despite the fact that there were other issues surrounding them, Lauren couldn't help but sympathize with her.

* * *

Bo waited in the precinct's lobby for Hale to arrive at the precinct. She sat in her usual spot, so naturally some of the uniformed cops passing through pointed out to her that Dyson in the break room here. They didn't know that he and Bo had a falling out last week. She couldn't really blame them for not knowing. It wasn't as if they'd publicized the argument. For all they knew, Dyson and Bo were still getting along just fine. They did seem shocked at the brush off Bo gave them at the mention of Detective Thornwood, but Bo had to give them credit — they didn't pry any further.

Bo had done some preliminary research on this Blackjack character, and what she'd uncovered was an enigma. There was a mention of a "Blackjack" implicated in a previous court case when she searched through the public records available at the district attorney's office, but there was no mention of a legal name anywhere in the documents. The details were so sparse that Bo had difficulty even deciphering what crime was even committed. It was if someone had intentionally edited out crucial details of the case before releasing the records to the public — but perhaps that was Bo just being skeptical. All she really knew was that a cop at this division had died, a man by the name of Sean Kavanaugh. The case was still unsolved, and there were no new leads to date.

She spotted Hale's hat above the tall wooden divider before he even came inside. Bo stood up to meet him, ready to get started on her next case.

"Hey, Bo!" he greeted her cheerily. "Whatchu' up to now?"

"I have a new case."

"Ah, congrats lil' mama!" He grinned widely. "I knew that little setback wouldn't keep you out of it for very long!" His reaction was genuine, and seeing him so happy for her accomplishment made Bo blush.

"Thanks, Hale. Actually, I was wondering if I could access the evidence room. The case I'm working on might be linked to one that was investigated here earlier. I wanted to see if I could find anything else out — the details in the public records were kind of nonexistent."

"Sure. Which one were you looking at?"

Hale pulled out his desk chair and sat down to resume his work. It was so messy that Bo didn't know how he found anything in that heaping mass of papers. Dyson's desk had looked similar last week, but now, there wasn't much on his at all. It was almost as if he'd already cleaned out his belongings.

"The real name wasn't in the official record, but there was an alias involved named 'Blackjack,'" Bo said, and Hale's hand paused in midair as he was reaching for a pen. "Have you heard of him?"

When Hale looked up, his expression was hardened. Bo had never seen him look like that. He was such a perpetually cheerful person that seeing him like that felt oddly unnatural.

"I've heard of him," Hale answered tersely. "What are you doing digging around in _that_ case?"

"I think he may be involved in some more activities that I'm investigating. I understand that he's been tried in a previous case before a judge, but the legal name has been expunged from the record for some reason. Do you know anything about that?"

Hale glared at Bo angrily. She had no idea what she could have said that made him react this way, and she tilted her head to the side in confusion. "I know more about that than I'd like to. Sean Kavanaugh was my former partner. He went rogue trying to bring this guy down, and ended up paying for it with his life." His voice was bitter, and Bo got the feeling that this was one of the few times he'd ever mentioned it.

Bo didn't know what to say to Hale. No words she could think of would have helped placate him, so she stayed silent.

So this Blackjack was the defendant, and Detective Kavanaugh was his victim. If he could get the drop on a cop like that, then he truly was a dangerous person to be investigating. Because Hale was still alive, he clearly wasn't directly involved, but he _must've_ known a name — something that could set Bo on the right path.

"Who is he?" Bo asked. "What's his name?"

Hale shook his head. "No. I'm doing you a favor Bo. The last time someone tried to bring this guy down, a cop got killed. We had slam dunk evidence against him for the murder, and when he went to trial, everything fell apart. Nothing stuck. Now — he can't stand trial for the murder again, but I'll be damned if I let someone else run into his trap. I'm not going to help you get yourself killed."

Hale stacked a pile of papers together and straightened them before tucking them underneath his arm. Bo's mouth dropped open as he started walking away. He was really going to do this. He was going to ignore what Bo asked. The fact that _Hale_ of all people would do that to her was more surprising than the scanty information she'd gotten at the district attorney's office. He was her friend, and although she understood his reasoning, she disagreed with him trying to keep her off Blackjack's case. That wasn't his decision to make.

"Hale, please wait!" Bo called out as he walked away.

He didn't stop and didn't spare her a single glance as he left the work area. The last thing Bo was his back as he rounded the corner and stepped out of the room.

Loathe as Bo was to admit it, there was only one way to continue her investigation now. Hale wouldn't give her a name, but she still needed to look at old evidence — and to do that, she needed a cop to take her to the evidence room. Bo cast a miserable glance at the nearly empty desk next to Hale's and groaned.

She needed to talk to Dyson.

After some asking around, she found him in the break room reading a report by himself, nursing a mug of coffee at intervals as his eyes scanned down the page. Thankfully, nobody else was in the room. Things were already awkward enough between them as it was, no need to make it worse. Most of the detectives had already left for their lunch breaks, as Bo would be doing shortly. She'd invited Lauren to stop by so they could enjoy lunch together, and with this new development in Bo's case, she needed to clarify a few matters — both with her wife and with the terribly misguided man sitting in front of her. Lauren would be arriving shortly, so Bo had to hurry.

"Dyson," Bo said, breaking the silence in the break room.

His eyes darted up at her voice, and he scrambled to his feet as quickly as possible, nearly spilling his coffee on himself. It was the first time Bo had actually spoken to him since the day of the incident.

"Bo. How are you?" His tone was timid, almost as if he were terrified of saying the wrong thing.

"I'm fine."

Dyson fidgeted at the silence following Bo's words. "Did you need something?"

"I need to look at evidence from the Sean Kavanaugh murder."

He clearly hadn't been expecting her to ask that. His eyebrows raised in surprise before he reset his face in a more neutral expression. "I remember it. It wasn't one of my cases though, so I'm not familiar with all of the details. All I know is that the guy they sent to trial got away with it. You know you can't reopen the murder investigation, right? Once he's been found 'not guilty,' that's the end of it."

"Yeah, yeah — the double jeopardy law, I know," Bo said, rolling her eyes. "I'm not investigating the murder. I just need to know more about the people involved. I already asked Hale, and he turned me down… So here I am."

Dyson nodded in understanding. "Since I'm leaving next week, I'm not getting assigned any new cases." He paused, giving Bo a serious look. "There's not much to work on at the moment, so I could help you out if you wanted."

His offer didn't surprise Bo in the slightest, and in fact, she almost expected it from him. But she still hadn't forgiven him for what he'd done. There probably would never be a time that their friendship wasn't tainted by that moment (at least from Bo's perspective), which was disappointing, especially as he was so helpful from a professional standpoint. There was lot of knowledge that Dyson could offer, but it was all for naught if she couldn't trust him to not ruin their working relationship.

"Before I answer you one way or the other, let me make sure you understand one thing." Bo took a step closer and glared at him. "This is strictly professional. This will only _ever_ be strictly professional. I am married, and as far as anything you have to offer me? I'm not interested. So if you pull another stunt like you did before, I will _personally_ drop kick your ass into a women's studies conference."

Dyson silently searched Bo's eyes. Bo didn't even flinch at the intense look. She'd said her part, and she meant every word. If he was waiting for a joke or a punchline, he wasn't going to get it; this was the way it needed to be going forward if they were going to have to work together.

"Okay," Dyson conceded. "Scale back on the funny business. Got it."

Bo corrected him. "Absolutely _none_ of it, Dyson."

"Fine," he said, nodding curtly. Bo could tell by the look on his face that he wanted to contend the point, but he wisely dropped it. "If you want to, stop by the evidence room after lunch, I'll meet you outside, and we can go over your case."

"Sounds like a plan."

Dyson's eyes flitted over Bo's shoulder after she spoke. He'd clearly seen something in the distance that interested him, and it wasn't something that Bo's ears picked up. She spun around to see her wife approaching, looking a little lost in the unfamiliar environment.

"Lauren," Bo sighed happily. "Hey."

"Sorry if I'm intruding," she said, offering Bo a soft smile and winding her arm around her waist as she came up to stand by her side. "I was waiting outside, but a couple of the officers directed me this way." The smile vanished when she spotted the other person in their company, and Lauren eyed Dyson warily.

Well… This just officially got awkward.

"Uh, Lauren this is Dyson," Bo said, not really knowing what else to do besides introduce her wife to the detective she was working with. "He's going to be helping me some on my case. And Dyson, this is Lauren — my wife."

Lauren gave Bo a questioning look after hearing that she'd be working with him again. It was an unspoken agreement that it would never happen again, but unfortunately, she didn't have a chance to discuss it with her before now. Dyson's eyes were narrowed at Lauren, and he was glaring at her suspiciously.

"It's nice to meet you, Dyson," Lauren finally said, sporting a perfunctory smile. Bo noticed that it didn't really reach her eyes though.

She extended her hand in a friendly gesture, and Dyson stared at it for a moment before reaching out to grasp it. They both squeezed much, much tighter than necessary. Bo could tell what they were doing when the muscles of their forearms both rippled from their strong grips.

"Likewise," Dyson replied tightly.

They eventually let go of the uncomfortable handshake, though neither of them took their eyes off of each other. It was as if they were sizing each other up, like they were competition. It shouldn't have been that way, however — because there really was no competition between them. Bo would choose Lauren — every — single — time.

"Uh, Dyson? Don't you have somewhere that you needed to be?" Bo asked. She leered at him, hoping that he'd take the hint and leave. He looked at Bo then back to Lauren several times, almost as if he were debating whether or not to go along with Bo's advice.

"I guess I do," Dyson eventually admitted. He looked directly at Bo again. "I'll see you after lunch, okay?"

"Fine."

Bo clenched her teeth together and purposely averted her eyes from him as he left. She could feel him looking at her and hoping for some kind of acknowledgment, but Bo wouldn't give it to him. She kept her attention solely on Lauren, who appeared deeply uncomfortable at the meeting that just occurred.

"Well, he certainly is a _charming_ guy," Lauren joked once Dyson was out of earshot.

"I'm sorry about him. He needs a muzzle and a leash, but I don't think that comes standard on police uniforms." Bo rotated in Lauren's outstretched arm and looked at her seriously. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine, Bo."

Bo sighed in frustration. Lauren was a master at keeping her emotions in check, especially in public places. Despite the fact that they were out of sight from anyone else, she still was determinedly keeping up her unaffected facade. Bo saw through it only moments before; she'd seen how Dyson's presence affected her, and Bo silently cursed the bastard for making her feel that way.

"He wasn't my first choice to work with on my case, but he was the only one that could help me," Bo explained. "You have _nothing_ to worry about, babe. I only want you. I told him the deal — that he can't keep making passes at me while I'm here… but I'll be sure to make a few threats to his genital region when I see him later."

Lauren pressed her lips together in a thin line. "I don't trust him."

"Honey, I —"

Bo's words were cut off as Lauren raised her index finger to press against her lips. "I don't trust _him_… But I trust _you_." She let her finger fall back to her side. "Please just be careful, Bo."

"I will be." Bo leaned forward to press a long, lingering kiss on Lauren's lips. "And I love you."

* * *

Dyson was leaning with his back flat against the wall, one foot planted firmly on the ground and the other propped up against the wall as well. He looked way too damned smug standing there outside of the evidence room, and Bo scoffed at him as she approached.

"How was your lunch?" Dyson asked, in a falsely friendly tone.

"It was delicious."

He pushed himself up from the wall and moved to stand in the center of the hallway next to her. "Where did you two end up going?"

"None of your business," Bo replied. "And if you keep insisting on acting like a petulant child, especially around my wife, Lorena Bobbitt is going to seem downright _tame_ compared to what I'm going to do to you."

Dyson didn't have a retort for that. He opened his mouth for a few seconds, as if he were going to say something, but he snapped it shut moments later. His shoulders drooped in defeat, like a puppy that had just been smacked on the nose with a newspaper. The only difference was, the puppy didn't know any better.

"Now let's go before I change my mind about this," Bo said, nodding her head toward the door.

Dyson led them both inside, using his ID card to unlock the heavy metal door. It wasn't the first time Bo had seen the evidence room, but as Dyson navigated through the tall shelves of marked plastic bins, Bo realized it was the deepest she'd ever been in the dimly lit room. It didn't appear that big from the outside, yet the rows kept going… and going… and going… She had no idea how all of this stayed organized or how anyone found anything when they needed it.

"Here it is." Dyson stopped in his tracks and pointed to a blue bin at his eye level. It was only the size of several shoe boxes put together, so he pulled it out and handed it to Bo. "Detective Sean Kavanaugh — deceased March 14, 2013."

Bo couldn't contain her curiosity. She lifted the lid and stole a quick glance inside. There were mostly papers, but she also spotted a few tapes as well. "Where can we watch these?" she asked.

"Come on, I'll take you to the video room."

She followed him out of the evidence room and down the hall. Luckily, the video room was on the same level and was unoccupied. Bo dumped the contents of the bin on the table, and Dyson made an immediate grab for the first tape that spilled out, quickly placing it in the player. The television set wasn't anything fancy, but Bo could see the figures clearly because they were recorded at such close range.

"That's him," Dyson said, "That's the man they put on trial. I recognize his face."

Bo frowned. "Blackjack?"

"I guess."

Bo watched the television set closely. The first thing she noticed was the thin gap in his eyebrow where a deep scar ran through it. The harsh fluorescent lighting showed off the old wound prominently but obscured the rest of his deep set eyes. Bo could hardly see his eyes at all with the shadows his brows cast over them.

There wasn't much being said on the tapes, though they clearly weren't showing in a linear order. The videos skipped around numerous times, as if they'd been edited together — or like certain parts had been cut out. In the twenty minutes of tape they had of Blackjack being interviewed by detectives, there wasn't one useful statement recorded. It was frustrating, even more so when it felt like a deliberate cover up.

"Take a look at this," Bo said. Dyson was busy reading the medical examiner's report on Detective Kavanaugh, but he glanced up as soon as Bo called leaning forward to look at the papers Bo held in her hand. "These have all been edited. Every single one of them."

The name on the warrant had been clearly altered, as were the names on the jail and trial paperwork. There was a hint of marking around the edges where the original text had been covered up with white, but what was even more telling was the font of the new name. The typewriter-like font was similar, but the spacing between the letters was a tiny bit narrower on the new edits — clearly done on a different machine. They'd also chosen an unremarkable pseudonym instead of the real one: Ben Jackson. Bo would have bet all of her admittedly small life savings that it was a fake.

"You're right," Dyson agreed with her, making the same assessments she'd made previously. "And these photo negatives that were included with the autopsy report have been bleached — totally unusable."

"Shit," Bo hissed. "This is ridiculous! Who did this? Is there even one thing left in here that hasn't been completely destroyed or changed beyond all recognition?"

In her frustration, Bo flung her hand out, striking the evidence bin and tipping it over. Nothing fell out, but Dyson's eyes stayed on the bottom of the bin, eying it curiously.

"What?" Bo asked. He pointed to the inside of the plastic bin, where a playing card was adhered to its smooth surface. "What the hell…"

She peeled it off the bottom and flipped it over. It was an Ace of Spades. Dyson, however, seemed more interested in the other side of the card. He reached to take it from Bo's hands, squinting as he examined the pattern on the other side.

"This is from a custom deck," Dyson mused. "I haven't seen it in a while, but I recognize the pattern."

"Where is it from?" Bo asked. She took the card back to examine it herself. It wasn't a usual pattern that Bo ever saw on card decks, but the intricate patterns of geometric shapes and even lines were aesthetically pleasing enough. It definitely wasn't something she recognized straight away.

"It's from a little dive downtown — 'The Crimson Lounge.'"

* * *

**_Author's notes:_** _I just wanted to say thank you for all of the thoughtful reviews left on this story so far. I'm aware that this is a difficult story to sell to readers sometimes based on controversial content, but I appreciate you sticking though it. I know it's not everyone's preference to have their favorite characters navigate through difficult subject matter. Despite that, your insight is what makes this story a joy to continue writing. So to reiterate — thank you all, and I always look forward to hearing what you think._

_Also as a side note: I just got a twitter account (it's kind of daunting to me right now), so if you have questions that you'd like to direct to me outside of this forum, feel free to contact me. Vesalius20_


	10. Vice Grip

Lap dances, implants, strippers… _Oh my_.

Bo glanced around the seedy dive in awe. While the aura in the place was exciting, it definitely carried a distinctly raunchy undertone. There was hardly a place to stand or sit that wasn't being serviced by a woman wearing a string-like bikini (or even less). It would actually be more accurate to say that they wore their standard work bikinis until one of the bar patrons paid them to take off their tops. There were bare breasts all over the place, and somehow it didn't surprise Bo at all that Dyson had been a frequenter of the bar.

She stood staring, mesmerized as two women danced together on a pole at the bar's center. It was next to the table where the high stakes games were taking place, so the dancers were paying extra attention to these customers, hoping to help them part with more of their money. Bo was sorely tempted to jump right in and start asking questions, but Dyson suggested they scope out the place some first — get an idea of who was working there and who the regulars were. They each grabbed a bottle of beer and made their way to one of the back tables, mostly out of sight from the main area. Several of the dancers smirked at Dyson suggestively as he went past.

"You come here often?" Bo asked Dyson with a sarcastic tone. She slid into the booth and rotated her body so that she had a decent view of the bar, the stage, and the tables all at once.

Dyson climbed into the seat opposite Bo and glanced back at her with an innocent expression. "I haven't been here that much."

"Really? Because it seems like you and the ladies here have been — let's say, _acquainted_ — in the past. Not to mention, you recognized that pattern on the back of the card right off the bat."

Dyson smirked; it was that same cocky little expression he got right before he said something to piss Bo off, so she braced herself for whatever moronic words that were about to spill out of his mouth. He wasn't necessarily dumb, but he really was clueless sometimes.

"I didn't say I hadn't been here at all," Dyson argued. "I don't make it a habit though. Why are you so concerned about it? Do I detect a hint of jealousy, perhaps?" His smug smile only got bigger, and Bo had to literally roll her eyes at him.

"Dyson… Let's get something straight. You could pay off a bunch of women, go home, lather yourself up in chocolate syrup and have yourself a fifteen hooker gang bang, and it would not bother me — not at all. Now, what _does_ matter to me is that you seem to be pretty familiar with a place that's linked to a known cop killer — a cop killer that looks like he got off by some sort of inside cover up, might I add. So that bitterness you're sensing? It's not jealousy. I'm skeptical of the crowd you like to run in."

Bo could tell by the shift in his face, that she hit a sore spot. For some reason, he just wouldn't take the hint. He shouldn't have been surprised that yet again, Bo turned down his advances. She'd declined more gently in the past, but after his little stunt on television, she'd upped the ante. There should have been no confusion anymore, so Bo didn't even feel bad about hurting his feelings; if he kept on making unwanted passes at her, she would keep on shooting him down in spectacular fashion. Dyson recovered his composure quickly, and did best to put on a more neutral expression, though Bo could tell he was still put out by her comment.

"There's nothing wrong with the crowd I run in," Dyson said.

"We'll see about that once I get this guy," Bo replied. She glanced around the bar, but didn't see any obvious sign of him. Save for the stage and the spotlights around the gambling tables, however, it was fairly dark. If he was on the far side of the room, there was a good chance he would escape their notice. "Do you see any sign of him?"

Dyson's eyes followed Bo's around the room, making a quick sweep of the place. Much like Bo did though, he came up empty. He shook his head at her. "I got nothing. We could just wait to see if he comes out though — you know, before we go charging in and asking questions."

Reluctant as Bo was to admit it, he was right. Bo was tempted to go in and start asking about this Blackjack guy, but if he wasn't here and word got around that someone was making interrogations, it wouldn't help her in the long run. Either he would begin staying away from the bar, or he would start targeting Bo, and she didn't want either to happen.

"Fine. Twenty minutes, and then I'm going in," Bo conceded.

Dyson seemed to think the wait was another opportunity to start making smalltalk instead of investigating Bo's suspect. She knew for a fact that he wasn't paying attention to what anyone was doing inside. Bo, on the other hand, was focusing nearly all her attention on watching the customers, somehow managing to give a perfunctory "uh-huh" or "yeah" whenever Dyson grew quiet. She still didn't have a clue what he was talking about, nor did she care.

Bo spotted the cards used at the table, and though it was from a distance, she could tell they were the same as the one they'd recovered in the evidence box back at the precinct. The blue and red lattice pattern with assorted shapes at the center was characteristic. She stared hard at each of the people holding them; they all seemed to be too financially well off to be at a place like this. It wasn't an overly trashy place, by any means, but the environment did attract a certain type of person. It was a place where the working upper middle class came to escape — at least the ones that hated their lives and were looking for a bit more excitement in it. Yet some of the people at the high stakes game were unmistakably white collar, and Bo couldn't quite figure out what to make of them yet.

"Bo?" Dyson asked in an irritated voice. "Did you hear me?"

"What?" Bo asked, rolling her eyes at him. She hadn't been listening, but in her defense, he hadn't been saying anything important. So naturally, she tuned him out.

"Check out your ten o'clock."

Bo tracked her gaze to her left, following Dyson's instructions. Someone caught her eye immediately… Tall, stocky build, shaved head, broad shoulders… She only had to wait for him to pass underneath a light to recognize him. As soon as his features were fully visible, Bo recognized him instantly as the man from the video — Blackjack. A rush of excitement ran through her, and she didn't even think before pushing up out of her seat and marching toward him. He was here in the same building, and Bo wasn't going to let him slip away without making him talk first.

She barely registered Dyson's protests as she climbed from the booth, and she didn't pay attention to the fact that he was following her as well. But Bo was able to slip through the crowds easily, and Dyson's size and general lack of subtlety made it more difficult for him. Bo reached the far side of the bar without any resistance, where he was seated among a small crowd of obviously close friends. He was oblivious to her approach and kept socializing amongst his party.

"Excuse me," Bo called out to him, making sure she was loud enough to be heard over the thrum of the music and numerous conversations in the place. He didn't notice right away, but several of his friends did, and their distraction was enough to make him notice. "Yeah, hi. I was wondering if I could have a word in private."

A wicked grin spread across Blackjack's face. "Ah, are you the entertainment for the evening, then?" he asked. His eyes raked down Bo's body from to head to toe, and she could tell by his face that he liked what he saw.

"Not exactly."

With unfortunate timing as always, Dyson chose this particular moment to arrive, stumbling through the last of the crowd and finally emerging at Bo's side. Blackjack's demeanor stiffened instantly; the grin disappeared and was replaced by a scowl directed solely at Dyson. The two of them stared daggers at each other, both apparently forgetting Bo's presence entirely. The others at the table didn't seem bothered by the turn of events and watched on with polite interest.

"I don't spend my free time socializing with cops. If you'd be so kind as to excuse yourself before I have security throw you out," Blackjack hissed at Dyson through his tightly gritted teeth.

It shouldn't have surprised Bo that her suspect recognized Dyson as a detective at the precinct. If he was as dangerous as she'd been made to believe, he probably memorized the faces of everyone over at the police station. Fortunately for Bo, she wasn't one of the formal staff. Otherwise, Blackjack would have probably had a similar reaction to her appearance. Dyson, on the other hand, wasn't working the case, so he wasn't as familiar with the man he was staring down. All he knew was that he'd killed a cop and gotten away with it. For a detective, that was an unforgivable offense.

Dyson scoffed. "Why? Scared that you'll say something incriminating that'll send you away for good this time?"

"Hardly. I think you'll find that a jury found me innocent of the crimes you accuse me of."

"Yeah, well… It's not as if there isn't something new going on with you these days. Some dirt never really completely washes off now, does it?" Blackjack didn't say anything in return, and Dyson smiled smugly at the nonresponse.

"All right, detective… If you think you're so infallible, let me see your warrant, assuming you have one. Once I have a look at that, I'd be glad to have a _discussion_ with you someplace a little more private." Blackjack waited for Dyson to reply, but of course nothing ever came. He and Bo had nothing on him, and everyone here knew it. "That's what I thought," Blackjack chuckled. "Now get out of my bar, detectives, before I have my security escort you out — and I should warn you, they aren't well known for their genteel nature."

Both parties continued to stare at each other wordlessly. Mostly it was Dyson and Blackjack staring at each other with pure hate in their eyes, but Bo was also leering at her target without his notice too. Dyson reluctantly stalked away, beckoning for Bo to follow him out and pausing after a few steps when she wasn't behind him. Bo didn't budge an inch. The security guards showed up shortly after, giving Dyson a menacing look. He gave Bo one more imploring gaze, but she shook her head no before he eventually gave in and left, leaving her alone with her suspect and his group of friends.

"I thought I dismissed you, detective," Blackjack said to Bo idly. He took a sip of his whiskey on the rocks, and glanced at his friends, who had resumed their quiet conversations at the table.

"I'm not a detective."

"Hmm… I figured that might be the case. I thought I would have recognized you if you were. You sure choose interesting company."

"I wouldn't say that I chose that company so much as it follows me around like a lost puppy dog."

"Well, unfortunate friendships aside," Blackjack said, "who are you, and to what do I owe the displeasure?"

"My name is Bo. I had some questions about this place of yours… I assume business is doing well?"

Blackjack actually chuckled, and a few of his friends grinned as well. "I'd say it's doing better than ever, actually."

Bo felt like there was some inside joke she was missing out on, but whatever it was, she hadn't the slightest idea what it could be. She reached into her jacket pocket, pulling out the piece of evidence that led her and Dyson to the Crimson Lounge, holding it up toward Blackjack and showing him the pattern. Bo said: "Hypothetically speaking, let's say I found this today — while I was working around my house." It was a lie, but nobody else needed to know that. "What might that mean?"

"Why don't you turn the card over?"

"What?"

"Let me see the other side," Blackjack said. Bo did as he said, flipping over the card to show him the Ace of Spades on the playing side. A troubling smirk pulled at the edges of his lips. "Well, Bo… It would appear as if _you_ are in some trouble then."

"What do you mean?"

Blackjack lifted his glass to his lips and took several pulls at his drink, finishing it off completely. He set the glass down with a clinking noise before acknowledging her again. "I mean you should probably get out of here before you find out what happens to people who are dealt that card. I'm not entirely sure you'd enjoy it."

There was a disturbing look in his eye that Bo had never seen on anybody before — at least, not in real life. She'd seen it imitated in movies and television shows, but somehow, reality's version was far more menacing. It was the look of someone with the intent to kill, and right now, it was being focused on Bo. She needed to get out of there as quickly as possible before the situation escalated. Even if Dyson had stayed, she would have been outnumbered, and she doubted that the hired hands for Blackjack were slouchy fighters. On the contrary, each of them could probably give Bo or Dyson a fair fight with their fists and feet. It wasn't worth the risk. Bo bowed her head once at her new acquaintance before slipping out back through the crowd and toward the exit.

There were a few things Bo was now certain of: firstly, the card system was some sort of shorthand messaging system used in this guy's circle.

Secondly, the Ace of Spades signaled something unpleasant forthcoming, and anyone who received it was being warned of their upcoming demise, just like Sean Kavanaugh. She wasn't even sure what good running would do when someone was facing the kind of resources the other side had.

And thirdly — and most worrisome to Bo — whether she liked it or not, she was now on Blackjack's radar.

* * *

If Kenzi hadn't cut the lock on the landfill's back gate, there was no way she and Lauren would have gotten into their adopted mobile home. It was far past regular hours, so the front entrance would most definitely be locked up tightly — not to mention the video surveillance they'd have to bypass to get to their usual spot.

Vex was able to get more precursor than he originally anticipated, and just a few days after Lauren made her new deal with Ba'al, Kenzi called to ask for Lauren's help. Lauren was struggling to make her required quotas with Ba'al; as he correctly pointed out, she could have done it in six days, but Lauren needed the entire weekend to maintain her personal appearances. Her mother would be starting her treatments tomorrow, and she needed to continue spending time with Bo. She was working harder and faster than she'd ever worked in her entire life and was still only barely finishing in time. The hours got longer; just today, Lauren finished as the sun was beginning to disappear below the horizon. The only saving grace was that now Lauren was using her mother's old car. It wasn't much to look at — a 1985 Chrysler New Yorker with its gray paint wearing off in places — but after a day in the shop, at least it was running.

Lauren watched her solution heat as it bubbled over the open flame, watching as the color changed from clear to faint blue to purple. Kenzi was helping as well and since they'd spent more time apart recently, neither of them quite knew what to say to the other. The job was much quieter this time around.

"So… Uhh…" Kenzi started awkwardly. They were at the stage where there was nothing left to do but wait for the reaction to finish. "How is everything going with Ba'al?"

Lauren hesitated. "It's good," she added, with a little too much fervor than the question called for. Kenzi simply raised one eyebrow at her. "It's fine," she amended.

"Try not to sound so convincing, Mrs. L." Kenzi finally turned her attention back to the bubbling flask in front of them, staring as the liquid made its slow, almost imperceptible color change.

There wasn't much more Lauren could say to her and still keep her agreement with Ba'al. She wasn't particularly enjoying her work with him, but it did pay well enough. However, if she said anything else to Kenzi about it, she would probably find herself dismembered and in a ditch somewhere (or perhaps in several different ditches). She had to be careful; the temptation would be there to spill everything. After all, Kenzi already knew what Lauren was involved in, at least in a general sense. It wasn't like it was with Bo with everything being a massive cover up.

"How does Vex know Ba'al?" Lauren asked, causing Kenzi to look up in surprise. She obviously assumed Lauren would avoid talking about it any further.

"Vex and Ba'al go way back… Even before any of us got into all of this stuff. They were best friends — grew up down the street from each other and everything. Ba'al was a few years older though, so he ended up graduating high school before Vex even started ninth grade." Kenzi frowned. "It was hard on him, you know? Not having his best friend around. Ba'al went on to bigger things, and Vex got left behind all by himself. Between you and me, I'm convinced that's why he failed so many times in high school. Before that, he was solid."

"What did Ba'al end up doing when he left?"

Kenzi shrugged. "Eh, for a couple of years, nobody really knows — complete radio silence. When he came back into town, he opened up a strip joint, and the rest is history, I guess."

"What about Vex?"

"_What_ about him?"

"Do he and Ba'al still… you know… get along?"

Lauren realized that she didn't really word the question well, but she needed to know if Vex and Ba'al were still friends. She knew Vex, and Ba'al was an mostly an unknown entity, save for the fact that he was a demanding overlord toward her. If Vex could vouch for him on a personal level now, Lauren would feel much better about working for him, even if the hours were awful.

"I guess," came Kenzi's uneasy reply. "They don't really hang out or talk all the time anymore, but Vex still thinks he's cool. Honestly, after Ba'al left, Vex started hanging out with the coolest kids ever, so can you blame him for not spending as much time with Ba'al?"

It was such a _Kenzi_ response. What Lauren gathered from it was that Ba'al became an unknown after he left town. Vex still admired him, but that admiration wasn't based on much other than nostalgia. The two didn't regularly talk. Ba'al could still be the decent person that Vex befriended years ago, or he could have changed beyond all recognition. Nobody could really tell her anything. Lauren would just have to live with that, though she made a note to be even _more_ cautious around him from now on.

Lauren and Kenzi stood together as they watched the rest of the reaction take place. With Lauren's instruction, Kenzi actually did the rest of the steps herself, though she still had to be corrected several times. She had a tendency to try and speed through the process, and as Lauren told her, sometimes pouring too quickly or not measuring precisely enough could aversely affect their yield. Kenzi initially resisted Lauren's advice but when she learned that on a larger scale, it could end up costing her thousands of dollars in a year, she immediately resorted to doing things Lauren's way.

Beyond discussing the job at hand, neither Kenzi nor Lauren said much of anything for the rest of the evening. The sun went down, and the two worked underneath the lights from the rugged street lamps outside shining through the dirty kitchen window. Not even on the drive back to Kenzi's place did the two of them discuss anything of substance. When it wasn't pointless smalltalk, it was silence.

Lauren parked her mother's car in the familiar parking spot, cutting off the engine wordlessly and joining Kenzi in bringing their equipment inside as they'd done every other time they worked together. They finished, and as Lauren moved to return to her car and drive home, Kenzi stopped her.

"Mrs. L?" Kenzi said, breaking the silence in the empty room.

Lauren halted and turned around to face her. There was a concerned look on Kenzi's face that hadn't been there earlier. "You can call me Lauren, Kenzi. After all, it's not like I'm your teacher anymore."

Kenzi shook her head. "Nope, too weird."

"What is it that you were you going to ask?"

"It's just…" Kenzi's voice grew quieter, and she glanced down at her feet as she toed the worn wooden planks on the floor. "Be careful, okay? I know that Ba'al is one of Vex's old friends — and he might have been a great guy once upon a time — but I've never met him. Besides that, I'm pretty good at reading people, and… well… let's just say that he gives me some bad vibes. I don't trust him."

A small smile pulled at the corner of Lauren's mouth. "You know, Kenzi, it almost sounded like you cared there for a second."

Kenzi dropped the concerned expression the moment Lauren pointed it out. "Um, no. You don't suck as bad as I thought you would, I'll give you that, but let's not get crazy with these wild speculations."

Lauren's smile only grew wider. She knew from having Kenzi as a student that her denial was as good as an admission, and the thought that their hostile working relationship had transformed into even a tenuous friendship made her inexplicably happy for some reason. She couldn't keep the smile off her face, which only annoyed Kenzi further.

"You're not so bad yourself, you know," Lauren said back to her. "Once you drop the front, you're kind of fun to be around."

Kenzi opened her mouth, but she was clearly struggling to find a response. Lauren had given her a compliment, which she clearly appreciated, but the compliment also implied that Kenzi cared about Lauren more than she let on. It was a hilarious reaction that Lauren would probably laugh about later tonight. For now, though, she decided to leave and stop torturing her former student.

"I'll see you later, Kenzi," Lauren said. "Let me know when you need help again."

Lauren didn't wait for a response before she headed back toward the rickety front door. She wasn't expecting to hear anything in return, but right before the door closed, Lauren heard the unmistakable sound of Kenzi's voice.

"Bye, Lauren."

* * *

Janine got checked into the hospital without complication. She would be staying overnight, as was standard with IVIG treatments, but it wasn't an actual admission like she normally had. The visit was technically called an "observation period." There was one main difference (and it was the one that most concerned Lauren ); admissions were far more expensive, so she and Bo would end up saving a little bit of money. In the grand scheme of things, it wasn't much, but at this point, any little bit helped.

Lauren's sabbatical was accepted by the school district, as she suspected would be the case. That gave Lauren six months left on their current insurance coverage. After that, everything — including the hospital visit itself — would need to be covered out of pocket. If Janine's situation were different, her current disabilities would have qualified her for Medicare, but as one of the policy experts at Lauren's current insurance company pointed out, Janine was excluded from that rule because she hadn't worked stateside for ten cumulative years, which was another one of the requirements for immigrants. The difficulty of the entire situation was compounded again with another barrier, and there didn't seem to be an end in sight.

As Dr. Everett promised, Janine was already set up to begin treatments at her usual hospital. It was for the best, really… They were already familiar with the building, the doctors, and the nursing staff. It was where Janine was most comfortable, and that was a large part of its appeal. Lauren wasn't concerned that much about where her mother was treated, so long as she got everything she needed.

The nurse came in only minutes later to start an IV. Lauren had seen it done hundreds of times, so she continued reading her pamphlet while the nurse worked. Bo wasn't usually at the hospital when Janine would initially get admitted, so she watched with rapt attention as the nurse cleaned the area and maneuvered the needle into a prominent vein at the crook of Janine's elbow, wincing slightly as the needle broke the skin. For all of Bo's toughness, sometimes she was really a big softy. Lauren grinned while she watched her wife's face twist at the sight of needles, and her mother must have noticed it too.

"You know, it's really not that bad, Bo," Janine assured her. "Just a little sting at the beginning, but that's it really. No need for that worried look, sweetheart."

Bo instantly composed herself back into her unaffected expression, backing away and returning to her reclining armchair next to Lauren's. She tucked one foot underneath her. "I wasn't worried about it."

Lauren didn't want to challenge Bo's tough girl image, so she let the comment slide, though her grin did get a little wider in response. She knew Bo didn't do well with blood most times, but she didn't feel like starting an argument about it. Just then, their usual doctor came inside and unnecessarily introduced himself. Lauren, Bo, and Janine had met him on several occasions, so he either didn't remember them (which was unlikely, given the frequency of their visits), or he was required to say it by policy. Lauren suspected the latter.

He explained the basic procedure — how she would have to stay overnight because there was an increased risk of blood clots during the first twenty four hours after the infusion. She would need to get prophylactically treated with anticoagulants to prevent that, and since it was her first treatment, the doctors wanted to monitor her closely for any type of serious reaction. After this time, he assured her that the stays would be shorter and she wouldn't have to be here overnight. Whatever kept Janine out of the hospital was okay with Lauren and Bo.

While the IVIG infusion was running, there weren't many limitations to what Janine could do. As long as she stayed connected to the IV pole, she could do as she like within the confines of her room. Yet with all the possibilities offered to her, she opted to doze off just minutes after the treatment started, leaving Lauren and Bo essentially by themselves. Lauren was sorely tempted to catch some sleep as well, as she hadn't been getting as much since her new "job" started. She curled her legs up under herself and leaned the side of her head against the chair's headrest, closing her eyes and beginning to drift off.

"You're tired too?" Bo asked jokingly from the seat next to her. "You're not going to leave me awake by myself, are you?"

Lauren's eyes opened slowly to meet Bo's. After she'd relaxed they felt heavy, as if weights were hanging from them. "I was thinking about it. It's been a long couple of days."

Bo scooted over in her own plush seat and opened her arms wide to Lauren in invitation. There wasn't enough room for them to sit side by side, but Lauren had the feeling that Bo wanted them to be a bit closer than that — and she was right.

"You know," Bo said with a grin, "I make a much better pillow than the back of that chair."

Lauren couldn't help but chuckle at her. "Is that so?"

"Yep. Even more ergonic than a Tempur-Pedic mattress."

"You mean, _ergonomic_?"

"Yeah, that's what I said." Bo's grin grew even wider and she wiggled her eyebrows suggestively at Lauren, keeping her arms wide open.

It was hard _not_ to give Bo what she wanted when she was being that adorable. All of Lauren's muscles were fatigued, and they protested painfully when she climbed out of her own chair to join Bo merely a few feet over. Just as Bo had promised, her body was the perfect shape for cuddling. Lauren's shoulder tucked comfortably underneath Bo's, and her head rested easily against Bo's chest. There wasn't much of Lauren's body that was actually in contact with the chair, so much the better because of how well they fit together. Bo closed her arms around her wife and rested her chin on her blonde hair as she snuggled deeper against her body.

"You're working yourself too hard, hon," Bo said before pressing a gentle kiss against the top of Lauren's head. Her arms squeezed a little tighter around her wife's body, and Lauren yawned hugely in return. The warm and cozy position was making Lauren's exhaustion even more obvious, and she wouldn't be able to fight off sleep much longer.

"I've got to, Bo."

"I know there's always some adjustment after a new job and all, but you're still having to put in way too many hours, babe." Bo's voice vibrated in her throat, and Lauren could feel it against the side of her head as well as hear it. "I feel like I haven't seen you at all this week. I hope you're getting paid overtime at least."

"… Something like that." Lauren's voice was quiet. If Bo had been further away, she wouldn't have heard it at all.

There was a rustling of the sheets on the hospital bed. Lauren was too tired to move from her spot, but Bo's head perked up at the unexpected sound. Janine was glancing at them curiously; apparently she had _not_ been sleeping as everyone thought.

"What's this about a new job?" Janine asked her daughter. She didn't seem fussed about interrupting Lauren's would be nap. "Lauren?"

Lauren was forced to turn her head and face her mother. "I thought you were asleep."

"Honey, I woke up at noon and took a two o'clock nap. I'm probably going to be up all night." Janine gave her daughter a pointed look. "And _you_ my dear, didn't answer my question."

Lauren sighed. Her mother had heard Bo's comment, and it was too late to try and recant it now. "I went on sabbatical, mum." Before Janine had the chance to ask anymore questions she added: "It's nothing permanent. Just sort of bridging the gap until something else comes along."

Janine's face was skeptical of the information Lauren shared, but above that, she appeared dejected at being the last person to hear about it. Lauren hoped that she would have been done with her duties before her mother found out about her leaving the teaching position, but unfortunately life had other plans. She couldn't fault Bo for saying anything. After all, it wasn't exactly top secret information to anyone else besides Lauren. She'd just figured that the less people that knew, the better off she'd be. There would be less people to explain herself to and less alibis to keep in check. For every person that knew about her "job change," Lauren would need to keep up appearances around them. If that number grew too large, she didn't know how she'd realistically keep track of it all.

"Oh," Janine muttered. She pulled the sheets up underneath her chin and turned her head to face the ceiling again. "I thought you liked teaching. I wish you'd tell me things like that, sweetheart. It feels like I'm always the last to know what's going on these days."

Janine's comment pulled at Lauren's guilty conscience heavily. Granted, she and Bo were busy trying to solve their own problems most of the time nowadays, but she'd never stopped to think about how the lack of communication hurt her mother. For all intents and purposes, Janine was the closest Bo had to a mother as well, as her own had reneged on all her motherly responsibilities. Lauren and Bo were also Janine's main source of happiness. She did have monthly group meetings at one of the downtown clinics where she made some casual friends, but her daughter and daughter-in-law were the most beloved people in her life. Lauren should have told _her_ that she left her teaching job, at least.

"I'm sorry, mum," Lauren said.

"It's fine."

Lauren shook her head where it was resting against Bo's chest. "It's not though. I promise… Any more big time changes, and I'll let you know straight away."

A weary grin spread across Janine's face, which Lauren saw clearly in her profile, and despite her assurance that she wouldn't be sleeping the rest of the day, her eyes drifted slowly shut. In her own way, she was giving her daughter and Bo as much privacy as she could in the current situation.

Lauren turned her head back into the softness of Bo's chest and nestled in closely so that their bodies seemed to blend together comfortably on the chair. It felt as natural as anything in the world, and with her fatigue and the sensation of Bo lightly stroking her back, Lauren fell into a deep, deep sleep in a matter of seconds.

* * *

The hours didn't get better for Lauren unfortunately. Over the next week, they were just as grueling as they'd been during the last. She was forced to use the weekends to catch up on much needed rest, but that was the time that Bo always wanted to reconnect again. Lauren _wanted_ to, she really did… But her exhausted body would not comply with her desires. She craved that physicality with her wife just as Bo did, yet the only way her body would cooperate with her was if their activities were time-limited or if there was only cuddling involved. Their long, all-night marathons definitely weren't happening anymore. Lauren would routinely fall asleep after round one (if it happened at all), and Lauren could tell that Bo was a little let down by this recent development.

Today marked the end of another week working under Ba'al's command. Her frenzied work pace was already maximized, so there wouldn't be any shortening of her hours. Lauren just had to send up a silent prayer that he didn't ask her to make any more. She _did_ manage to learn the names of everyone in her security detail, however. They still never talked to her, but it helped make them seem like actual people, which was comforting during the long hours at the lab, when any contact with other humans was a rare gift.

Another unintended side effect of her work was the toll it was taking on her joints and muscles. The human body wasn't designed to stay in the same position all day, as Lauren well knew. Stiffness and soreness began to set in if enough movement wasn't achieved in a day. Many people with desk jobs requiring them to remain seated for hours on end were familiar with these effects and took regular breaks to stretch their arms and legs or walk around, but Lauren didn't have that luxury. In addition to her fatigue, she was also feeling aches all over her body from being hunched over her workstation for hours at a time. She was moving far more slowly as she followed her detail inside the Crimson Lounge.

As always, there were no patrons at the bar yet, but there were signs of preparation for the upcoming Friday night celebrations. The bartenders were busy restocking the liquor shelves, and the card dealers were organizing their chips prior to opening. The familiar flurry of activity was something Lauren was growing increasingly accustomed to seeing when she reported to Ba'al at the end of the day. The staff always seemed busier on Fridays, most likely because of the night's huge turnout. They didn't pay her any attention as she came inside; they were too preoccupied with the errands Ba'al gave them. Her boss spotted her and waved her over towards his usual table with an unreadable expression on his face.

"Today's yield?" he asked in a neutral tone.

Lauren didn't handle the finished product once she left the lab, and Ba'al was well aware of that. It was all posturing; whatever mood he was in, he'd address Lauren so that he could displace those emotions on her. It was always worse when he was upset about something. Towards the end of last week, she'd heard from chatter around the bar that there was a cop sticking their nose in Ba'al's business. He never addressed his long-time colleagues negatively, but Lauren was fair game. He'd been needlessly waspish with her in response even though she had nothing to do with his current predicament. Actually, Lauren had just as much reason to be upset about the development as he did. If the cops brought him down, she'd likely be implicated as well.

Lauren gestured to her guard standing next to her, who brought forth the box Lauren meticulously measured. Ba'al took it without as much as a word of thanks and rummaged through its contents, not giving any indication of what he was looking for. When he'd finished, he handed the box back off toward the guard and returned to his previous position at the table.

Ba'al glared icily at Lauren and rested his elbows on the table, folding his hands in front of him. "It seems that you and I have a… little _problem_, Lewis." His voice stayed eerily calm despite his scowl.

Lauren flinched but quickly recovered from the initial surprise. She should have known that a conflict would have come up with Ba'al sooner or later, but she hadn't expected it today. He'd given no indication that he was even upset with her before now.

"Pardon?"

"I got an interesting phone call from one of my best customers earlier today," Ba'al explained. "He accused me of short-selling him twenty-five grams. Do you have any idea why he might say that?"

Lauren shook her head. "No, I don't. There must be a mistake."

Everything was measured out precisely. There were thirty milligrams of pseudoephedrine in each tablet Ba'al supplied, and each molecule of pseudoephedrine lost a net of one oxygen atom during the reaction to methamphetamine. The theoretical yield was therefore almost the exact weight supplied in pseudoephedrine. Actual yield was _always_ lower though; Lauren's purity ranged between ninety-four and ninety-six percent, obviously higher than anyone else in the area. Beyond the immediate community, she didn't know how she fared against other experts, but nine-six percent was definitely something to be proud of, and she could always predict the weight she made based on purity and the mass of precursor supplied.

Lauren only used as many pills as she absolutely needed. If she took more, Ba'al would likely accuse her of theft, and she didn't want to find out how he would handle that situation. She also made sure that her product measured exactly what Ba'al asked of her. It was always correct, at least by the scale she had in her lab. She'd made the painstaking effort to get it absolutely right — one reason that it bothered her so much to be accused of shorting Ba'al on his order. She hadn't done anything wrong.

Ba'al chuckled darkly. "This guy has been keeping me in business for years, and not once has this been an issue. I've known _you_ for less than a month. What makes you think I would believe your story over his?"

"Because it's the truth. Every day, I measure the amount I make, down to the last gram. Last week, I brought you 4,542 grams of methamphetamine — which is actually slightly _more_ than what you asked of me. This week, it's even more."

He narrowed his eyes at her. "Let's just see about that, shall we?" Ba'al nodded to his hired guards, and they wordlessly turned and headed toward the back of the bar, somewhere that Lauren hadn't been since she started working here. She had no idea where the darkened hallway led, so she gave Ba'al a questioning look. "After you," he said, motioning toward his guards that were already leaving.

Lauren followed them; after all, she didn't have much of a choice. The hallway went on longer than she expected, with numerous offices and supply closets flanking her on either side. She didn't know what they were looking for until they reached the end of it. Then she saw it straight ahead of her: the heavy black door of a huge walk-in safe. There had to be a safe somewhere, Lauren knew, but she definitely hadn't expected to see one so sizable. This one looked as if it might have been better suited for a large bank branch.

Ba'al said nothing as he stepped around Lauren to the safe's door. With a few sure twists of the large dial out front, the lock clicked and he swung the door open, showing the contents inside. It was then that Lauren spotted the difference between Ba'al's vault and a bank vault. On the right side, there were stacks and stacks of cash, all measured out and arranged in neat little piles, but on the left, it was a huge stockpile of meth. There had to be at least a hundred pounds on the shelves, at least by Lauren's estimate. Clearly, not all of it had been made by Lauren. She didn't know the quality of the older product, nor did she dare ask, but it obviously hadn't been used in a while. Ba'al was exclusively selling Lauren's meth recently, which led her to believe that it had to be far superior than what his previous manufacturer made.

"Bring this week's product over here," Ba'al said. His guard nodded and pulled down the bags from the past few days, all marked and arranged by date.

Ba'al was going to weigh Lauren's product himself to ensure it was the required weight. Lauren wasn't worried about the measurement as she'd already done it herself (several times, in fact), but she still was uncomfortable with the fact that Ba'al was doing it. He tared the scale with empty bags, and once the machine beeped to signal it was ready, he began piling on filled bags, one on top of the other. Meth wasn't a dense crystal, Lauren knew, so ten pounds made an impressive volume. It threatened to spill over the edges of the scale's weighing pan, so Ba'al placed the last bag carefully on top and watched carefully as the numbers on the digital scale stabilized.

4,553… Just as Lauren promised.

Ba'al seemed almost disappointed that the numbers were so high, as if he were looking for a reason to reprimand Lauren in some way. An involuntary grin pulled at the corner of Lauren's lips, and she had to consciously relax her face to compose it in a more neutral expression.

"With all due respect," Lauren began cautiously, breaking the silence in the vault. "Could it be possible that this was all a ploy to manipulate you into giving up more product?"

Ba'al's head snapped up, though he didn't say anything.

Lauren hesitantly continued: "The average purity of meth on these streets is between fifty and sixty percent. You've just introduced something that's almost completely pure — and _now_ you're getting accusations that you're short selling product? You alluded to it yourself: this is an highly demanded commodity. Even if this was a long time loyal customer, from a business standpoint, it wouldn't be entirely unexpected if he tried to manipulate you into giving him more at a reduced cost or no cost at all. I think you should at least entertain the possibility that he was lying to you."

Lauren waited for some reaction — any reaction — to her statement. She could practically hear the gears turning in Ba'al's head as he mulled over her explanation, though he made no outward expression that he was thinking about it. The silence became uncomfortable after a while, and Lauren moved to back away from the crowd of men hovering around the scale.

In a lightning fast display of speed, Ba'al's hand shot out and closed hard around Lauren's forearm. It was so sudden that she didn't even register the pain initially, but as his strong grip pressed longer into the soft tissue, it became harder and harder not to react to the excruciating sensation radiating through her arm. Lauren had never experienced anything quite like this before, but based on her current pain level, she was almost certain it would leave a bruise. Multiple attempts to pull herself free from his vice grip only caused her more pain, so eventually, she stilled, letting her arm hang limply in his stronger grasp.

"I would be careful who you accuse of manipulation, Lewis," Ba'al hissed. It wasn't loud, but his voice was dripping with a kind of malice that Lauren never witnessed from him before. "Despite what you may think, you _are_ expendable. This may get you off the hook for this week, but that means nothing about what's happened before." Lauren was hoping that his grip would relax, but if anything, it only grew stronger. Yes, that would _definitely_ be leaving a bruise later. "You know, I may have made the mistake of giving you too long of a leash," he added after several moments. "When dogs start tugging at their leash or pulling too far ahead, you've got to rein them back in. Things are going to change around here starting next week."

"How so?" Lauren's reply was barely audible.

A malicious grin spread over Ba'al's face, and it was easily the most disturbing he'd ever looked during Lauren's tenure with him thus far. "Let's just say that I'll be taking a more _active_ role in your work from here on out. Is that understood?"

Despite the question, Lauren knew there really was no other option than to agree. She gave an almost imperceptible nod, trying to hold back the tears that were starting to form because of the pain in her arm.

"Good," Ba'al sneered. He let go of Lauren's forearm suddenly, practically throwing it away from him. The throbbing sensation intensified as the blood flow began to return. "Now get out of my sight."

Lauren didn't waste any time getting away from the vault. She took long, quick strides, putting as much distance between herself and her angry boss as possible. The people outside bustling to prepare for the night somehow appeared more sinister now, despite the fact that nothing had changed with them. They'd done nothing to wrong her, yet she couldn't stop the horrible feeling they caused in her. It had nothing to do with who they were though; the mere association with Ba'al was enough to elicit the reaction now. Lauren put her head down and ignored all the curious glances sent her way.

On the way out, she pushed past a large group of people, all dressed to the nines to enjoy their Friday night out, ignoring the annoyed grunts as she bumped into several shoulders on her way through of the lot. In much the same way she felt in the vault, she needed to get away before feelings of trepidation took over completely.

* * *

Bo found out some interesting things about her friend, Blackjack. The deeds to the Crimson Lounge were public record, and as such, she was able to identify the owner — a man apparently named Ba'al. From there, she was able to get her hands on his driver's license information, including his address and photo. It was the exact same man Bo had run into when her and Dyson went to the Crimson Lounge last week; Bo wouldn't have forgotten that face anywhere.

She practically guilted Dyson into retrieving the financials for his business before he left for DEA training, hoping that it would bring some new information to light. There were some obvious abnormalities, but Bo wasn't sure what to make of them yet. Based on yearly tax returns, the Crimson Lounge was an obscenely profitable business. There were so many spaces for financial entries in the corporate tax return that Bo had to get an instructional book to help her sort through it all, but that still didn't explain all the irregularities she noticed. The earnings from the business were still not accounted for by the monthly revenue. Most of the money coming in was listed as "international capital gains" — in other words, completely untraceable by federal officials. If the earnings were indeed legitimate, Ba'al was probably a more savvy investor than many of the ones on Wall Street. But Bo suspected that wasn't the case; that money was coming from somewhere else, and she just had to figure out _where_ that was.

The sound of the door opening distracted Bo from her mountain of papers. It was a welcome distraction, certainly; she dropped the tax forms from her hands, and a big smile spread across her face. Lauren stepped inside seconds later, looking as tired as ever. It had been getting worse over the past couple of weeks. She wasn't getting home now until after it got dark outside, and she often left for work as soon as Bo first woke up. She knew that her wife had a new job now, whether Bo liked it or not, so she tried to be as understanding as possible. But it was still difficult seeing her in such a state day in and day out. Bo immediately went to her, paying no more attention to the huge mess of papers she left on the table.

"Hey, sweetie," Bo greeted. She wrapped her arms around Lauren's waist, pulling her closer against her body and getting no resistance at all from her wife while Lauren rested her hands lazily on Bo's shoulders. "How are you holding up?"

Whenever Lauren wasn't feeling particularly well, she was usually quite skilled at hiding it from everybody else, including Bo. Over the years, Bo became better at reading Lauren, but there were certain things that even the great Lauren Lewis couldn't hide. The dark circles under her eyes betrayed just how exhausted she was despite all Lauren's assurances that she felt "fine." Bo had never seen her this tired even when she was in the middle of working on her doctorate thesis.

"I'm doing fine Bo," she replied, giving Bo her most convincing smile. It didn't do much to assuage Bo's worries; when it came to Lauren, she would _always_ err on the side of being overattentive.

Bo gave Lauren's lower back another gentle squeeze, smiling back at her. "You know what I think would help you feel even _more_ fine?"

Lauren shook her head. "Oh hon, I know I promised you that we would do that as soon as I got done with work this week, but I don't think I have enough energy in me right now… Maybe tomorrow morning after I've gotten some sleep?"

"Well, I was going to suggest a bubble bath," Bo chuckled heartily, "but I'm definitely going to hold you to that now that you mentioned it."

"Hmm… A bubble bath sounds nice…" Lauren closed her eyes in anticipation, and her hands drifted down the front of Bo's shirt. They didn't go low enough to be particularly suggestive, but because it was Bo, it still managed to get her blood pumping more.

"How about I get that started for you then?"

Lauren's eyes opened suddenly. "You're not joining me?"

"Oh I am… definitely." She glanced back toward the disorganized heap of papers on the coffee table, knowing full well that Lauren would appreciate it if it was all picked up and put away. "I just need to clean up my mess here, and then I'll be right in there with you — if you save me a spot, that is."

Lauren smirked. "I _might_ be able to manage that."

"Good enough for me."

Bo grinned and let her arms unwind from around Lauren's waist. During the move, she searched out one of Lauren's hands and grasped it, leading them both to the bathroom in back. There was no rush, but Bo had a little spring in her step at the promise of seeing Lauren naked. They probably wouldn't get to have sex, as Lauren pointed out, yet that didn't preclude them from fooling around a little in the warm sudsy water. Bo couldn't help but lick her lips at the images forming in her head.

She didn't waste any time once they got to the bathroom, starting the hot water and adding in her favorite scented bubbles while the water level was still shallow. A mound of suds started forming where the stream hit, and it slowly grew, taking over more and more of the bathtub. In any other situation, Lauren would have already undressed herself, but she seemed to sense (rightly so) that this exercise was more for Bo's benefit than her own. Lauren just wanted the bath, but Bo wanted to savor the moment, so she let Bo undress her completely, only helping minimally by lifting her feet so Bo could remove her shoes or stepping out of her jeans. Everything else was all Bo, and Lauren could tell by the hungry look in her eye that peeling away each layer of her clothes was akin to her opening her favorite Christmas present.

Bo moved to Lauren's upper body, shrugging the light, tailored blazer off her shoulders. Lauren winced and let out an involuntary hiss as the fabric pulled at her arm. Bo's hands paused in midair and a her brows furrowed as a worried look rose on her face.

"Lo, what's wrong? Did I hurt you?" Bo asked.

Lauren shook her head. "No… You didn't do anything wrong… It's nothing, Bo. Really." She shrugged off the jacket herself, but Bo noticed that she did it slowly, almost as if she were guarding her own movements.

Bo gave her a curious look, hoping that Lauren would at least tell her _something_, but no words were forthcoming. Lauren simply stood there in nothing but the button down shirt she'd worn underneath, waiting for Bo to resume where she'd left off. The water was over halfway filling the tub, and there was a sizable collection of bubbles floating across the top by now, so Bo stepped forward again to remove the last pieces of clothing. She unfastened the buttons one by one, slowly revealing more of Lauren's skin. Knowing that she couldn't take full advantage of it now like she wanted to was tortuous. _Tomorrow_, Bo thought.

The shirt fell open after the last button came loose, revealing nearly all of Lauren's front half. Even after all these years, the sight still made Bo's throat go dry. She focused all her energy on keeping her hands steady as she peeled away the last layer of clothing… slowly… slowly…

Bo gasped loudly when the sleeves fell away from Lauren's arms. There, marring the skin of her forearm, was a dark, angry looking bruise that most definitely was _not_ there earlier today. Bo would have seen it; she stole glances at Lauren when she was showering this morning, getting ready for work.

"Lauren — Jesus, what happened?!" Bo asked frantically.

She reached forward, pulling Lauren's hand toward her gingerly so she could examine the injury further. Bruises sometimes happened, she knew. On occasion, Bo had some on her legs that she had no recollection of ever getting, but this one was far too obvious and was clearly causing her a great deal of discomfort. Lauren didn't resist Bo's examination, but she wasn't exactly showing the bruise off either.

"It's nothing important. It isn't even that bad, really." Lauren pulled her arm out of Bo's gentle grasp, letting it hand loosely by her side again while she stared pointedly at the floor.

"Like _hell_ it isn't!" Bo couldn't help it when her voice raised.

She couldn't understand why Lauren was downplaying the seriousness of the injury. If Bo had to guess just by looking at it, she would have guessed that the arm may have even been broken. Bo was more than compensating for Lauren's calmness; her distress was growing more unbearable by the second, and she wanted some answers.

"I'm just tired, Bo," Lauren said weakly. "Can we talk about this tomorrow?"

Maybe it was just the effect of Lauren's broken voice that broke Bo's resolve. She'd never heard her wife sound so defeated in her life, and that was saying a lot with all they'd been through recently. Lauren had endured a rough couple of weeks, and what she needed right now more than anything was a good night's rest — not an inquisition. Bo couldn't begrudge her that.

Bo nodded and collected her resolve. "Okay," she said with a far softer tone.

She led Lauren to the tub, watching her closely for any sign that she may have needed help. She probably didn't, but it was a natural protective response for Bo. She held Lauren's other arm firmly in place as she climbed in to make sure she didn't slip. Lauren closed her eyes as she sank into the warm water. The bubbles hid her naked body, which normally would have disappointed Bo a little, but she couldn't muster up any emotion besides concern right now. Lauren seemed content enough letting the warm water soak her aching body, yet Bo was still highly unsettled.

"Thank you, hon," Lauren said. Her eyes were opened and sought out Bo's.

Bo gave her a sad smile, sitting on the edge of the tub and gazing back down at her. "Anytime."

Bo couldn't help how her eyes kept drifting to the bruise on Lauren's arm. She had both arms resting along the top edge, and the purple mark was clearly visible above the water. Had it been anyone else's bruise, it wouldn't have affected her so, but this was Lauren — _her_ Lauren. Anything that hurt her, Bo would take as a personal affront, and though she wouldn't confront her wife anymore about it tonight, she still couldn't help the unconscious reaction it caused her.

The pattern of the bruise was odd though, now that the initial shock wore off and Bo was able to see her arm more plainly in the bathroom light. It wasn't a solid block of color, like she'd hit her arm on something; there were distinct patches of dark purple surrounded by a reddish inflammation. It was a pattern that almost looked like… Bo's breath caught in her throat when she realized the form.

It was a handprint, and judging by its size, it definitely belonged to a man.

Bile rose in the back of Bo's throat as she processed the new information, and she started to feel slightly dizzy as the reality set in. Why would Lauren withhold the information from her, unless…

_No, it couldn't be._

Lauren looked at Bo curiously, obviously aware that she was acting strange but not knowing the true cause of it yet.

The rage taking over Bo was overwhelming, and though it wasn't directed at Lauren at all, she didn't want to be in her presence when it finally surfaced. Realistically, there were numerous possible men that could have left that handprint on Lauren's arm. She probably worked with a fair number of men, and as Lauren told her many times before, some workplaces were oversaturated with men by design, and Taft's facility was one of them. Bo didn't suspect some random man she'd never met before, though. There was only one person that she believed would have had the gall and depravity to do this to someone they worked alongside — and that person was someone Bo was already far too familiar with. A gentle squeeze on Bo's thigh brought her from her dark thoughts.

"Hey," Lauren said. "You okay?"

Bo took a deep, steadying breath. "Yeah… I'm fine." Her pulse was still throbbing loudly in her ears, and she took another deep breath in an attempt to calm it. "I just need to go clean up, you know?" Bo improvised, seeing a way to dismiss herself before she totally lost control.

"Oh." Lauren looked disappointed that Bo wouldn't be joining her immediately. "You don't _have_ to do that on account of me, Bo."

Bo gave her a tense smile before leaning down and giving her a quick peck on the lips. "I know I don't," she said, "but I want to. I'll be back to check on you later, okay?"

Lauren frowned in confusion, but she nodded anyway. Bo understood that she promised Lauren to join her in the tub later, but that was before she knew everything that happened to Lauren today. Now, the plans had changed, and there was a new agenda — one that involved breaking off a piece of her boot in Isaac Taft's ass.

Bo gave Lauren's hand a gentle, reassuring squeeze before making her hasty exit. True to her word, Bo did remove all of her paperwork from the coffee table, throwing it haphazardly into a plastic bin she "borrowed" from the precinct. She didn't care if the forms got out of order. All she cared about was confronting the asshole that did this to her wife. In less than five minutes, she had the living room spotless and was practically jogging out to her Camaro, where it was parked next to its new (more like new-ish) neighbor.

It didn't take Bo long to get to Taft's office. She sped, wove in and out of traffic, and ran two red lights once she ensured nobody else was crossing the intersection. Others on the road honked, but she didn't care at all. It was late, and she had to get to the office building soon if she hoped to catch Taft there. After all, he was the owner, in many non-Fortune 500 companies they didn't get the lush lifestyles that people thought and worked similar hours to their workers.

Sure enough, the light shining through Taft's glass office door gave away his presence. Bo followed the office listings on the ground level to find the luxury suite on the penthouse floor, although in hindsight, it should have been obvious that he would take the best office for himself. She didn't even knock as she barged in, rattling the frosted glass door as it struck against the door block. To Bo's delight, the noise caused Taft to jump from his seat in fear, though he somewhat composed himself once he recognized the intruder. They'd seen each other from afar years ago, but they'd never been properly introduced. No time like the present to get to know each other, at least in Bo's mindset.

Taft said: "I would say it's a pleasure to meet you, but circumstances and all… Well, you understand, I'm sure." He cleared his throat and straightened the lapels on his suit coat, which got disheveled when he bolted from his seat. "I'll have you know that if you damage my door with your little temper tantrum, I won't hesitate to file a lawsuit, Mrs. Dennis," Taft said in a surprisingly calm voice at his unwanted and unexpected visitor.

"Don't worry, it isn't as fragile as your ego is, _Doctor_ Taft." Bo placed a sarcastic emphasis on the title, seeing as how he got his degree using almost all of Lauren's original work. She should have been Dr. Lewis by now, but instead, this douchebag got the honor.

"Ah, so full of jokes. Is that all that Lauren sees in you, then?"

Something about him mentioning Lauren at all made Bo snap. She wasn't particularly in control of her actions when the compulsion hit. Somewhere in Bo's subconscious, she registered the fact that she was charging toward Taft, but she was incapable of stopping herself. Taft involuntarily backed away from her, but there wasn't much room to maneuver behind the desk. Bo cornered him against a his huge oak bookcase, grabbing his collar and slamming him against the finished wood. Several heavy volumes rattled on the shelf, but thanks to the sturdy construction, none of them fell off. The intense reaction surprised Bo, who'd never been the type to react with violence before, but it surprised Taft more. He stared at her with wide-eyed fear, and she glared back at him with pure loathing.

"Let's get one thing straight right now. You will not speak about her in my presence, and if you so much as _think_ about touching her again, I will hit you so hard in the face, you'll be shitting your own teeth for a week." She squeezed against his collar more tightly, making him gasp for air. He pulled at her arms feebly with his hands, but with Bo's adrenaline coursing through her veins, he couldn't find any purchase against her strong grip. "Is that understood?"

There was something strange in Taft's eyes; Bo thought it might have been confusion, but she quickly dismissed it as fear. There was definitely a lot of that as well.

"I said, 'Is that understood?'" Bo repeated.

He stretched his neck a little to open his airway and he gasped, "Yes."

Satisfied with the response, Bo took a step back and threw Taft into his bookcase yet again. This time without Bo holding him up, he stumbled, though he caught himself before he fell to the floor. Bo continued to glower at him.

"You know, if you so much as step foot on these premises again, you're going to be sorry you did," Taft said. His voice was hoarse and still hadn't recovered from the near choking episode.

Bo smirked at him, and turned to walk away, not sparing him a single glance as she walked out the door. She called out over her shoulder: "Then don't give me a reason to come back here."

* * *

**_Author's notes:_** _Bit of an interesting personal time coming up in the near future — I have residency applications due in September, and another licensing exam in mid-October, so I will be slow on updating until then. It's super stressful, and that's what I need to be focusing my time on now, to be honest. The next story to update will be _A Matter of Time_, as a side note. _

_After October 15, I don't have to report back to the hospital until January. All that I'll be doing during that time is interviewing for jobs next year, so I'll have lots and lots of free time. Don't give up on me if I go a couple of weeks or a month without updating in the meantime — I'll be back, I promise!_


End file.
